


Hell Was the Journey but it Brought Me Heaven

by immortalbanner



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Crusades Era Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Declarations Of Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Former Priest Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Getting Together, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Explicit Sex, Pining, Pre-Canon, Religious Conflict, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Some internalised homophobia, attempt at histroical accuracy, crusades era, histroical, it's about the yearning, like super minor, minor Joe/omc, minor Nicky/omc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27003094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalbanner/pseuds/immortalbanner
Summary: Two men kill each other when the Franks invade Jerusalem. After they find they don't pass, they form a reluctant allyship, become something like friends, and fall in love
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 12
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes, another How Joe and Nicky Fell in Love that no one asked for. I hope you enjoy this fic. I can say that I did attempt to research as best as I could although there are probably inaccuracies. I did do my best and apolgise in advanced for anything that's majorly incorrect.

The Holy Land stood before them. The fortress was well defended from what Nicolò could tell. His horse — who he had christened the name, Leonardo — gave a soft neigh as he stood among the other fighters. He scratched him behind the ear.

It’d been two years since Nicolò had joined the Knighthood with bared teeth and ready to fight. It had been long days and nights of training, learning to master the skill in a longsword. He felt the weight of it in its sheath as one hand gripped onto Leonardo’s reigns and the other to his spear

He heard the yell to charge and he kicked his heels into Leonardo’s sides, following the rest of the knights forward. His mind raced as he heard nothing but yelling, gripping tightly onto his spear, his shield to his chest. His hair whipped around him and he felt the wind against his beard.

He could see the infidels guarding the fortress. People stood above, arrows drawn and ready to strike them down. Nicolò held his breath as he charged with the force of something fierce. He only had one goal in mind: fight everyone who stood in his way and die if he had to. Even at thirty years, he was ready to make that sacrifice. It’d be worth it to be free of sin and ascend to Heaven.

As he rode ahead, arrows were already flinging their way. He blocked most of them with his shield, hissing as one hit his shoulder.

He didn’t have a chance to pull it out, Leonardo collapsed under him, arrows piecing his skin. Nicolò was flung forward, his face in the sand. He pulled his head up and spat it out as he saw a man standing before him.

He pushed himself up, seeing the man was giving him the coldest looking he’d ever seen in his life. His jaw was clenched as he gripped his scimitar, his teeth baring at him.

Light brown skin, curly black hair, dark eyes. If he had to guess, he was Moor. He would’ve had to travel too to defend the Holy Land. And he was ready to attack.

His spear forgotten, he pulled out his longsword and they charged towards each other like they were the only men on the battlefield.

It was like a dance. They would try to get the other with their sword, they would block or dodge or duck or jump backwards in the nick of time. He would lunge forward, the man would almost get him with his scimitar right in the stomach.

Nicolò couldn’t even focus on anything else, it was like his mind was set to kill this man specifically. His body was drawn to his and he wanted to dive his sword right where death was guaranteed.

He was kicked off his feet and fell into the sand again. He fell with a yell and was able to roll away before the Moor could strike him. Nicolò tackled him now that he was on the ground too. He was able to pin him to the ground with his knee to his chest. The man looked up at him with dark eyes, curls in his face and beard full of sand.

It would be so easy to kill him now. He was about the plunge his sword into his chest before the Moor found the strength to kick him off. He grunted as the man stood up. He found his own footing quickly, grabbing his longsword and meeting his eye. His shield was long gone at that point, lost when he was kicked into the sand, and he wasn’t sure where it was. It might’ve gotten snatched up by someone else already.

The problem with that was he didn’t have a defense when the man sliced his blade into his stomach.

Death wouldn’t be immediate, he knew that. There was time until he bled out unless the Moor wanted to disembowel him. He had time to act quickly before that could happen.

With every little bit of strength he had left, he lunged forward so his sword struck the man in the stomach. The man groaned and gasp and screamed as he pushed it in deeper until he went still.

He had time to pull the sword out and smirk before the last of his strength crept out and he collapsed to the ground to slowly bleed out.

* * *

When Nicolò opened his eyes, he was staring up at the night sky.

He blinked a few times, his eyes bleary. He coughed, tasting sand and iron. He pushed himself to sit up and looked around himself.

The battle was over, which was the part he could understand. Nightfall seemed like the time to stop if fatigue had taken over instead of death.

What he didn’t understand was why wasn’t he dead? He remembered the pain of the Moor’s sword slashing into him and collapsing into the sand as he allowed death to take over him.

Yet this wasn’t Heaven, where he was meant to ascend. This was the battlefield outside the Holy Land. This was a place riddled with bodies whose souls had left and bodies waited to be collected for their proper burial.

Why hadn’t his done the same?

He heard the sound of a groan behind him. He turned his head. In the moonlight he could see a man crawling away. It took a moment for him to realise it was the Moor he had killed, and who had killed him.

Before he could get too far away from him, he tackled him to the ground. The man grunted under his weight. There was no way he would let this man get away from him before he could finish the job for real. Even if he was mostly exhausted. Even if his mind kept asking himself why he was still on earth.

The man seemed to have it in him to fight back. They were on the ground, trying to pin the other as best they could. Nicolò was without a weapon and there was an arrow in his hand he’d only now noticed.

He was able to get on top of the man and he growled down at him as he started to strangle him. He got a vicious look in return as he growled something at him in a tongue he didn’t speak. He’d later learn the words were Arabic for “stay dead this time, you Frank bastard.”

He wasn’t exactly too focused on the words as the blade pierced his skin. He yelled, still on top of the Moor.

Despite the pain, Nicolò just had enough strength to fight back. He noticed a rock nearby.

With the dagger still in his back, he reached for the rock and bludgeoned him in the head as hard as he could, hearing the sound of a satisfying _crack_.

The man went still. Nicolò didn’t get a chance to feel proud of himself because he collapsed right next to him. The blade was deep enough that he’d have to bleed out again. He pulled it out so it could at least happen quicker.

In a few moments, he could hear him panting and a groan next to him. He realised his wound had healed the same time he realised the man still wasn’t dead. He touched the wound and while he felt blood, the cut from the blade that should’ve been there wasn’t.

A million questions ran through his mind and he looked back at the man. His brows had drawn together for a moment, his palm touching his head. He touched exactly where his skull was meant to have been broken as a final blow to death.

Nicolò was panting heavily and used that as his opportunity to try and kill him. Again. He saw his longsword in the sand next to the Moor’s scimitar.

The man seemed to have the exact same idea.

* * *

It became a cycle.

They would both wake up.

They would realise they were in the same place.

They killed each other again.

Sometimes they would die at the same time.

Other times, one would get a deep cut in first and would wait for the other to die.

That never came. It was like it refused to come at all. Like he was being rejected from ascending to God and Heaven.

They continued to try to kill the other in rage, in desperation for their own relief. In confusion of why they weren’t dead.

“Why won’t you die?” Nicolò panted out, in Greek since he was almost certain this man was Moor and they had a common language there. He stared up at the night sky as his temple throbbed.

Really he was asking both the man and himself, _why won’t I die._

The man had put a rock to him, enough to make him bleed. Nicolò had heard the skull crush, enough that he should be long dead. It was like he’d blacked out for a moment before waking up, like he’d only fallen asleep.

The man stared at him, waiting for his death as much as he was. The blood pulled behind his head.

“It’s impossible. The wound is still healing,” the man said in Greek, more so in disbelief than anything else.

Nicolò could feel it too. It was like his body was rejecting the mere idea of keeping the wounds.

The man was still gripping tightly to his blade with a furious look on his face, almost desperate. Nicolò wasn’t sure whose death the 0an was more desperate for.

Nicolò tried to reach for his sword. It was difficult since exhaustion was starting to get to him. Before he could, he felt a hand on his arm.

He stared up at the man. He had a calming expression that was oddly comforting.

He also had the darkest eyes he’d ever seen. Oddly enough, they were the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen too.

“I think this might be a sign from God, asking us to stop.”

He let out a shaky breath, letting his hand go limp. Maybe he was right. Maybe God had seen enough death and for whatever reason, wanted the two of them to no longer fight.

“Okay.”

He let his body relax. He no longer expected death. He’d lost count of how many times they’d tried to kill each other. If it hadn’t died yet, he wasn’t sure when it would happen now. Or even if it will.

He still had arrows in his hand and his arm. He thought about ripping them out. He could do it later. He needed to rest.

The man collapsed next to him. His arm was pressing against his side. He didn’t bother to push him away. Something about the man was drawing him to him. He couldn’t push him away because it almost felt they were meant to be there together.

“What’s your name?” the man asked. It was almost careful the way he’d asked. The question was almost dangerous. He’d always been told to never shake hands with the enemy because you couldn’t allow to see them as anything other than a threat.

He swallowed all that down as he did the same to the blood in his throat. “Nicolò.”

He heard the man murmur it back to himself. Not perfect pronunciation but enough to show he’d cared to get it perfect. “My name is Yusuf.”

He tested the name on his own lips. He drawled it out carefully, like God may smite him for allowing himself to say the name of a man he had been trying to kill in His name.

Yusuf stood up then offered his hand. Nicolò stared at it for a few moments before taking it, picking up his longsword in the process. He let him pulled him to his feet and Nicolò put away his weapon. Even though Yusuf’s weapons were at his feet, Nicolò still covered his hand over the handle of his longsword.

“So what now? What do we do?” Nicolò said. “I would very definitely be declared dead at this point.” That would be his guess if he hadn’t gone back to their base camp. Surely someone would’ve seen him die too. He couldn’t exactly walk back like nothing had happened. Another battle could mean someone seeing him get up from a fatal blow. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the consequences of a presumed possession.

Yusuf’s brows furrowed. “I thought your people believe the Messiah came back from the dead? How would this be any different?”

He pressed his lips together, both at the tone and his own disinterest in a religious debate. “Many reasons, for one I am not the son of God—

“Neither was he—”

“What about you? Can you go back to your people?” His jaw was clenched as he cut him off. They already had another point of contention that would deter any possible peace.

Yusuf paused before shaking his head. “No, I doubt so. But if we truly cannot die I do think returning is a bad idea. I think something greater than either of us wants us together. That’s my only possible guess of why neither of us have passed.”

Nicolò stared at him for a few moments. The logical side of him was telling him he shouldn’t trust this man. They were meant to be enemies, and almost nothing should set that aside.

But whatever was keeping them alive was far beyond something either of them understood. Maybe Yusuf was right to say it was divine intervention.

He took a deep breath and pulled out his longsword. The cold tip touched the base of Yusuf’s throat. Yusuf’s eyes shot down to the blade but he didn’t look particularity worried, even though he could so easily slit this throat. That would only waste their time at that point.

He used the blade to tilt his chin up so their eyes met. “Fine. We’ll stick together and leave together. Maybe we’ll figure out what this is or why it happened. But let’s make one thing clear; we won’t be friends. We will travel together but we don’t be friends. Understood?”

Yusuf stared at him for a few moment, not even blinking. “Fine. I didn’t actually want to be you friend. I am simply suspecting this means more than we currently understand. Now would you put the sword away? I was thinking we could head north.”

He squeezed the longsword for a moment before setting it to his aside. “Fine.” He put it back into its sheath.

Wordlessly, they started to heard north, letting the stars lead their way to whatever destiny was suddenly thrust upon them.

* * *

The Negev was so long and expansive that Yusuf couldn’t even begin to process it. Negativing it was an even slower process.

The Frank, Nicolò, had been worried about the long travel. They had to walk for now — Nicolò making sure to grunt about how Yusuf had killed his horse — and will for at least some time. Yusuf didn’t have the money to buy a horse or camel for them.

As a whole, they were still getting used to the idea of having to travel together. It hadn’t been long enough for things to fully sink in yet. He’d met people on Nicolò’s land but those times had been on terms where he was trying to sell them something. Not someone he was supposed to have killed.

They didn’t have a choice. They couldn’t go back, not to fight. Not without explaining why either of them were still alive. Not without either turning themselves into pawns for the war and continue to die. Possibly doing so until they were the last standing. If Allah — or something else entirely — had placed this gift upon them then something told him it wasn’t to die repeatedly and gruesomely.

The Frank had mused a few hours into everything that whatever this was, it might be some forom of destiny. Yusuf wasn’t sure if he’d agreed. Part of him thought that Allah possibly wanted him to take a different path. But why him? And why with the Frank he’d been trying to kill?

He wasn’t sure how far they’d walked. They were looking for an oasis to stop at to wash off the blood. A small village should be nearby for them to stop at but he wasn’t sure how long it would take on foot.

Due to the heat they had to strip out of their armour. They were still covered in blood. They both only carried their swords and stayed in the lighter clothing that had worn underneath their armour.

He looked at Nicolò. He was walking ahead of him, despite not know where he was going. Yusuf was pretty sure an oasis was close.

The one problem was that he wasn’t entirely sure where they would spend the night. He had left his satchel at the fortress base so he wasn’t sure how he’d get money. Maybe he could sell his dagger for some money or they could find jobs to do in exchange for food.

They finally found an oasis hours into their trek and Yusuf let out a sigh or relief. Hopefully they’d find drinkable water soon. Right now, he needed to wash off all the blood, his own and Nicolò’s, and all the sand.

Nicolò stripped down quickly, his sword falling to the edge with a _clunk_. Yusuf watched him as he did, surprised to see how easily vulnerable he was being. Maybe it was the knowledge that even if he tried, Yusuf couldn’t kill him.

Yusuf stripped down himself as Nicolò started to wash himself. Seeing how much blood and tears there was in his clothes told him he had to scrap up enough money to get some new ones.

He got into the oasis, gasping slightly as he felt the cold water. The chance to get clean was the old thing willing him into it.

When he was waist deep, he noticed Nicolò had his back to him.

It was perfectly smooth. Not a single scar was on his pale skin. He didn’t have a single mark of a warrior. Not even in the places is absolutely certain his blade and dagger have struck him. He didn’t even have a bruise where he’d struck his temple.

His eyes began to follow each movement. Each muscle contorting as he cleaned himself. His fingers were in his hair and sand and old blood ran down his arms. He wondered how much of the blood was his own and how much of it was Yusuf’s as their blood became one.

He realised he was staring a little too much and looked away. He looked down at the water. His reflection stared back at him.

He looked exhausted as he felt. His dark eyes stared back at him blankly. Too much had happened in such a short amount of time. Part of him wished he’d had died on the battlefield and not end up with the Frank.

He was too busy staring at his own reflection that he didn’t see Nicolò coming towards him, or have time to realise he’d put his hand on his back and shoved him down into the water.

Yusuf swallowed the water and tried to push himself up but a hand was on his head to keep him pinned down. He inhaled the water and before he knew what was happening, he saw black.

When he woke up, he was coughing out water, his eyes, nose, and throat all burning.

He turned himself over and when his vision cleared. Nicolò was standing over him.

He wiped his nose, still coughing on the water. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Hm, it’s not just wounds, it’s dying in general,” Nicolò said, sounding like it was more to himself than to him.

He gave him a cold glare. Two could play this game.

He stood up and tackled Nicolò into the water, not even caring they were both still completely naked. As he pushed his head underwater, he could see his shocked expression as he gargled water. He pinned him down with his knee to his chest as he thrashed under him. He kept his knee there until he drifted away.

He got up and stared down at him. Within a few seconds, his head came out of the water and he was coughing out the water.

“We definitely can’t drown.”

Nicolò glared up at him and stood up. “You fucking— you can’t just do that!”

“You did it to me.” His tone was dark, giving him a cold look.

He was clean now, so he walked back to the sand, grabbing his clothes. They were still covered in blood but they would have to do for now.

He dared to look over his shoulder, and saw Nicolò had returned to cleaning himself.

For his own sake, he decided it was a good time to pray.

* * *

It was starting to get dark and there was no town in sight. Yusuf was trying to find them a cave to sleep in so they wouldn’t freeze to death — literally.

Nicolò dragged his feet behind him. His whole body was aching in exhaustion. Maybe he should just fall into the sand and let himself pass out, maybe die for a few minutes.

Why was the desert so cold at night?

He almost voiced all those frustrations but he’d decided against it. Yusuf already clearly didn’t like him and he didn’t need to make it worse by complaining about walking for too long, as much as his entire body ached.

He hadn’t warmed up to him either. They had no reason to. They just spent a long amount of time trying to kill each other in the most brutal ways possible. He didn’t trust him to not kill him in his sleep and the feeling was probably mutual.

As Yusuf walked ahead of him slightly Nicolò focused his eyes on his back.

There were still tears where his sword had hit him. That and the blood were the only indications they’d definitely attempted to kill each other. Part of it just didn’t feel real at that point. Even when he was covered in their blood.

He was trying hard to not dwell on everything for too long. Maybe it was some kind of gift from God or maybe it wasn’t. Whatever it was, he had to wonder why someone of the enemy was his companion in all of it.

“I see a cave up ahead,” Yusuf said, not even turning to look at him.

Nicolò almost gave a sigh of relief.

When they reached the cave, Nicolò collapsed on the ground. His legs were burning to the point that he probably would’ve collapsed in the sand eventually.

Yusuf started a fire which was a welcome warmth. Yusuf sat across from him, setting his sword onto the ground. He let out a sigh, burying his face in his hands. “We need horses.”

Nicolò wasn’t sure how he felt about him already using ‘we’. “Okay, maybe we can find a town and trade some labour for two.”

“Or one. We can get by on one. We’d be more likely to get both food and a horse with labour than two horses.”

He frowned. “One horse?”

“Yes, because I don’t know about you but I’m kind of desperate and not even sure where we’re going. I just… I’m not even sure what we’re meant to do with this ability. Clearly it’s for something at least.”

“Like what? Helping people getting robbed by bandits?”

“It would be a start.” Yusuf looked at him in the eye. Nicolò noticed how his curls brushed against his face, framing dark brown eyes.

Nicolò couldn’t argue. As lost and confused as he’d felt, a silver lining was that he didn’t have to do it alone.

He probably wouldn’t tell Yusuf that.

He went to lay on the ground, trying to consternate on the warmth of the fire. He shivered on his place on the ground. Even a bedroll would’ve made everything slightly more comfortable.

His back was to Yusuf’s but he knew he was watching him. Part of him wanted to still choke him to death, the other part was too exhausted and just hoped he wouldn’t stab him in his sleep.

Yusuf said something to him in a language he didn’t speak, probably Arabic. He looked over his shoulder at him and gave him a questioning look.

“I said, goodnight.” His tone was gentle, not enough that he didn’t think he’d kill him in his sleep but still provided at least some hope he won’t try to.

“Goodnight.”

* * *

That night, Nicolò dreamed of two women.

It was only in flashes. Something resembling faces in a land he didn’t recognise. The two of them were riding horses one moment, and wielding swords another. They both moved with expertise Nicolò had never seen.

When he woke up, it was already morning. He blinked for a moment before rubbing his eyes.

Yusuf was awake too, already sitting up and staring at his lap. He seemed almost deep in thought.

The fire was already out. He stared at where it was for a few moment, just so he wouldn’t have to look at Yusuf.

“We should get moving,” Yusuf said, which made Nicolò look at him. He was already standing up. He brushed off the gravel on his torn and slightly bloody clothes. He could remember every single hit he’d made with his sword into Yusuf’s body.

He had a warrior’s body. He’d noticed that when they had been cleaning up. Maybe he would’ve taken a chance to admire it if he hadn’t been too busy trying to drown him.

They started to walk, finding a trail that they could only hope would lead them to the next town. They didn’t walk close, maybe over an arms length apart. They walked in silence, not even looking directly at the other most of the time.

Nicolò thought about telling Yusuf about his dream. Something about it had made it seem so real. Maybe real enough that it meant something more.

“You should learn Arabic,” Yusuf said idly, maybe after an hour of silence.

He gave a deep frown. “Why?”

He turned to look at him. “It’s the common language here, although the dialect does differ slightly in the Maghreb. I shouldn’t have to translate everything for you. If you want to be fair, teach me Zeneize. I know bits and pieces from being a merchant.”

Fair? What about anything happening was fair? “Okay. How would you say ‘go die in a pit’ in Arabic?”

He gave him a cold glare and stopped walking. He stopped too and they stared each other down.

The tension between them was far from waring off. He tried to anchor himself in his place in the sand so he didn’t lunge forward and choke him to death.

“What do you think will happen if you learn it? God might smite you?” He stepped closer so they were almost nose to nose. “God might think less of you?”

His hands curled into fists. “I think God has more important things to worry about.”

They stared each other for a few long moments. Dark brown eyes meeting grey, hot breath brushing against the other’s face.

Nicolò was the first to break.

He tackled Yusuf into the sand and wrapped his hands around his throat. Like when he’d drowned him, he thrashed under him. He knew he was going to get it right back when he comes back, especially with the cold look Yusuf was giving him. It was purge rage as he gripped onto his wrists.

His grip loosened and he went limp. He sat back, watching the bruises disappear.

In the few seconds it took for him to come back with a gasp. Nicolò sat back on his knees, turning his head to the sky.

As expected, Yusuf tackled into the sand. He maintained eye-contact as he chocked him to death, not even attempting to fight back. Yusuf was snarling down at him as he drifted away.

When he woke up, Yusuf was standing over him, looking at him expectantly. He said something in what was probably Arabic. He gave him a questioning look.

“I said, get up.”

This was going to be a long eternity.

* * *

They were able to find work pretty quickly when they arrived into a small town. It was only some farm labour, but they got some food out of it. They were still far from getting a horse but they were able to trade the food for a tent and two bedrolls. The tent would be small but Yusuf decided quickly to take what they could get.

He still wasn’t exactly sure where they were going. They weren’t too far out from Holy Land and where the battle was raging. If they’d passed themselves off as two men looking for simple labour, they would be able to blend in as much as possible.

It’d been a few days since he and Nicolò had last killed each other. Now that they knew for sure death wasn’t going to be permanent, it was almost like killing the other was a way to get anger at the other out.

He didn’t understand why he was immediately so against learning Arabic. He’d spent his years having to learn different languages out of necessity, even if it was only small parts. He knew enough Zeneize to know what Nicolò was muttering about, whether it was about him or something more general.

In their long stretches of silences, he’d taken the chance to think more. Trying to figure out what had brought them together in the first place. The idea of immortality had been weighing on him, wondering if Nicolò was some part in it all.

The dreams of the women had only made things even more confusing. The dreams felt so vivid that it was almost like he could reach out to touch them. He’d had them every night since he had first died.

He’d thought about asking Nicolò about them but he’d decided against it. They could still barely stand to share a space together as they slept back to back on their bedrolls, curling as far away from the other as the small space would allow.

“I’m getting hot,” Nicolò whined as he’d wiped the sweat from his forehead while they picked fruit. They were doing it as a long term way to get one of the farmer’s horses, as well as food. Only one, there was no way they’d get two at the rate they were going.

Yusuf held back a sigh. He muttered “do you ever stop complaining” in Arabic which got a glare in return.

“If you want me to learn Arabic, you actually have to tell me what you’re saying,” Nicolò said.

He met his glare with a pointed look. “I said, do you ever stop complaining? If you want to learn a language, you will have to figure out context clues.”

With that, he turned his back to him and went back to work.

As expected, Nicolò killed him over the snide remark. He hit him over the head with a piece of wood until he wasn’t moving anymore.

When he woke up, the only thing stopping him from doing it right back was that they needed this job and the last thing they’d needed was for the farmer to see what they were doing on his property.

He’d made a mental note to stab him in his sleep instead, there they had the privacy of their tent.

“We can’t keep trading our food for things we don’t need,” Nicolò said as the man they’d bartered their cheese for some charcoal. “Especially if they’re useless things for you specifically.”

“What’s the worst thing that can happen? We die from starvation?”

He clenched his jaw. “Sounds painful.”

“Like drowning, I’m sure”

His light eyes turned to ice. “Sure, or maybe more like choking.”

“How about bludgeoning?”

“There’s always stabbing.”

They fell into a silence. Their tent was a short walk away but it wasn’t close enough. He was exhausted from working all day in the sun. He couldn’t wait to curl up and fall asleep, even with an empty stomach.

When Nicolò realised he could sell his drawings or draw things for others, then maybe he wouldn’t be so mad he’d traded their food.

Maybe they’d eventually be able to stand the sight of the other. He doubted it would ever happen but it was a thought that put his mind at peace.

When they got back to their tent, Nicolò went right to his bedroll. Yusuf eyed him for a moment, seeing all defence had gone down.

He pulled out his dagger and stabbed him in the back until he was dead. Nicolò didn’t scream, he simply took it as if he’d anticipated it.

When he woke up, he gave the smallest laugh soaked in his accent. “Were you holding that one in all day?”

He pressed his lips together. “Maybe.”

Then Nicolò laughed more despite being covered in his own blood. Then Yusuf laughed too because hearing him say it made him realise how ridiculous it was he’d went so long through the day waiting for his chance to kill him again.

“You owe me a new shirt.”

“We’ll trade my dinner for it tomorrow.”

* * *

After having one moment to laugh together, things between him and Yusuf had gotten better.

Only slightly better but it was still an improvement.

They were still a few more months away from working enough to get a horse. Which meant more months a having to live in a tent. They still weren’t sure where they were going to go afterwards, but a horse gave them a start.

They hadn’t tried to kill each other for a good month now. They hadn’t made any sort of formal agreement to but it seemed to go unspoken. If they were going to be stuck together for so long they had to create some peace between them.

That started to include giving in and allowing Yusuf to teach him Arabic. That was the first step to peace, even if speaking the words made him think of home and think of how he’d been told the worst things possible about anything associated with Yusuf and his people.

Letting go of that was hard but he knew that was a feat of forgiveness that wouldn’t come easily from Yusuf.

“I can make eggs for breakfast,” Nicolò said that morning, his tongue trying to get around the Arabic carefully. He still had a heavy accent but not so bad that Yusuf didn’t understand him.

Yusuf smiled. “Yes, thank you.” And then he said something he hadn’t learned. He raised a brow. “I’m going to draw for a while, see if I can get to trade it for something.”

He frowned, opening his mouth to reply in Arabic. “How will…” He didn’t know the right words so he continued in Greek. “That help us? What will you draw?”

“Landscapes mostly. People like art. Sometimes if you gain momentum people will ask you to draw something for them and pay you for it.”

He only shrugged in response and started to work on the eggs.

There were a few people who passed their tent that they would notice on days they would sit outside in the morning. It was always peaceful this early, he enjoyed cooking at this time.

He would see Yusuf draw every morning, pad in his lap and a charcoal in the other. Sometimes he’d watch him as he cooked and wonder what he was drawing. He always looked so captivated by his own work, tongue sticking out as his hand moved in practiced ways.

He did the same that morning. Yusuf sat outside their tent and started to draw. The eggs had started to cook in the copper pan and he tried to focus on them so he doesn’t end up burning them. He enjoyed watching him draw a little too much.

Yusuf always went into his own world when he would draw. Nicolò had never learned to draw so it fascinated him to watch Yusuf do it in such masterful skill. Maybe he’d let him teach him once he’d shown effort through improved Arabic. Yusuf had suggested he’d help him learn to read it too but he couldn’t even begin to understand the alphabet. Maybe in the next century he’d try to learn.

When the eggs were ready, he served them and moved to sit next to Yusuf who thanked him and set the pad down.

He looked at the pad, seeing it was of a nearby oasis although not the one they’d drowned each other in. “You drew that from memory?”

He gave him a small shrug. “Yes. It’s not going to be exact but it is close. Someone will appreciate it.” He smiled and started to eat. “We need things to flavour our food, this is incredibly bland.”

“Sorry I don’t have the perfect spices on hand.”

Yusuf gave a small laugh. “Remind me we need to trade for those. This is incredibly bland.”

“It’s not burnt at least.”

Yusuf smiled. “At least.”

They shared a smile, holding eye contact for a few moments. It was the longest they’d held eye contact without being in the middle of trying to kill each other.

He notes that they were such a nice shade of brown. Deep and endless.

“We should probably get to work,” Yusuf said, looking away.

He paused before he nodded. “Yes, we should.”

They walked to work in a comfortable silence.

* * *

Yusuf fell into his bedroll with a groan. “Please kill me.”

Nicolò paused next to him. He was sitting up in his place. “Uh, are you okay?”

He rolled onto his back. “No one wants my art. People just laughed in my face when I asked if they wanted to trade for food.”

“Can’t exactly eat a picture of fruit, can you?” Nicolò chided. He could picture the smile on his face. “Also, no, I’m not going to kill you. You’ll waste the bedroll.”

He snorted. “Then I’ll share yours. There’s room for two.”

“Just because I don’t want to kill you anymore doesn’t mean I’d ever be willing to share a bed with you.”

He did look at him that time, and he had the smallest smirk on his face. He gave him one back. “Don’t dismiss me too quickly, never know what you’re missing.”

That made the smirk fade away a little. He still had it but it looked less genuine. “I still won’t kill you, we’re doing great at not doing that anymore. What did you think would happen if you sell your art anyway?”

“To get food, so we could ask for less food at the farm and get the horse sooner.” He let out a long sigh. “Maybe I’m too optimistic.”

He hummed, and went to lay down next to him. He curled so he was facing towards him. “I like the optimism. I do think you’re going about it the wrong way though. No one around here really wants art. But… I like how you wanted to bring art into people’s lives. It’s…” he paused, his eyes shifting for a few moments. “It’s nice. I like it. I like how you’re that kind of person.”

He stared at Nicolò for a few drawn out moments. He could tell by his eyes he was being genuine.

It felt good to hear that from Nicolò. It was almost as nice as the refusal to kill him.

Almost.

“Thank you, Nicolò,” he said as earnestly as he could.

Nicolò gave a smile in return before he turned away from him on his side. Yusuf watched him for a few moments. Nicolò’s shoulders that were so broad relaxed as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Through the thin fabric of his shirt he could see each and every curve in his back as it laid on his pale skin. He could still picture it from their first day together, when Nicolò drowned him in the oasis and the only mutual feeling between them was hostility.

Yusuf fell asleep facing his back.

* * *

“Can I draw you?”

Nicolò gave Yusuf a wide eyed look. They had been in the middle of farm work, trying to milk a goat that absolutely hated both of them, Nicolò especially. Yusuf had tried doing so first but she’d head-butted him in the groin causing his companion to have to sit on the floor until the pain subsided.

“Sorry?” he asked, because he had surely misheard him.

“Can I draw you?” he asked again.

He stared at him, the devil goat forgotten. “…Why?”

He shrugged. “Well, I need to practice drawing people. I’m much more accustomed drawing landscapes and objects but if I am able to convince anyone to buy my art, portraits may work out well. I’m just not so great at them.”

“Why not draw yourself?”

“Self portraits are too difficult. I like being able to get a close look at what I’m drawing if it’s not entirely from memory.”

Something about the thought of Yusuf staring at him for long periods of time made something tug at his stomach. “I’ll think about it.” He turned back to the devil goat and tried to approach her again.

Two months were left and they were going to be absolutely dreadful.

* * *

There was one month left until the farmer was willing to give up his horse to Nicolò and Yusuf. He’d seemed to take advantage of that fact by having the two of them work longer days, until their feet would’ve been covered in blisters if they didn’t heal so quickly.

They were helping the farmer build a chicken coop. The chickens liked them about as much as the goats did so as they would try to build the fat birds their home, they would incessantly peck both of them.

Yusuf was very much craving chicken by the end of the day.

He collapsed on his bedroll as Nicolò sat outside attempting to make tajine. He’d explained the recipie to him as best as he could since he’d insisted on cooking him something from his homeland. Even though they weren’t killing each other anymore — which probably wouldn’t last for much longer — he did have the suspicion he might try to poison him. Maybe a death will give him an easier nights rest.

He’d thrown out any plans to sell his art for now. Maybe he’d do better in a large city where people were more willing to buy art. A village like the one they were staying in didn’t offer those kinds of possible customers. He should’ve known better but he’d had the smallest hope he could get out of the village sooner than planned.

He heard the sound of the tent opening. “Yusuf, dinner is ready.”

He mumbled a response before sitting up to see Nicolò’s head poking through the flaps of the tent.

He noticed how unkempt he was. Yusuf wouldn’t consider himself completely focused on personal grooming throughout the situation he was in but he did try to keep his hair and beard trimmed.

Nicolò however looked like he hadn’t even thought about touching a razor. His beard looked like it had never been groomed before and his hair was long but looked like he would simply allow it to do whatever it wanted. He wasn’t sure if the man owned a comb. Which was frustrating because he had straight hair, he was meant to have an easier time with personal grooming than himself.

He didn’t voice those opinions, only watched Nicolò’s face disappear.

The tajine was a little above passable and he thanked Nicolò.

“Any time, my friend.”

He looked at Nicolò. The word ‘friend’ hung between them stiffly. They were far from over familiarity, they’d only known one another for six months now. Things were still a long way from being improved between them.

They were still far from friends. Companions even didn’t feel right.

Despite that, part of him could appreciate Nicolò’s attempt. But he still had trouble not seeing a man who joined an army who wanted to concur his people. He wasn’t sure if that was something he could forgive.

Nicolò cleared his throat and focused on his food. The silence between them was uncomfortable.

Yusuf kept his eyes on his food, pushing it around with his spoon. It was all vegetables since they couldn’t afford meat at the moment. He was really craving lamb.

He looked back at Nicolò to see he was staring at him. His spoon was sitting in his bowl. He opened his mouth, closed it and looked back down at his food.

He watched him as he went back to eating.

Nicolò retired to bed, leaving Yusuf alone outside. He finished his food and instead of going to bed too, decided he needed to go for a walk.

The town was small and if they’d tried, they would probably know the names of everyone who resided there. But they’d made the decision to keep to themselves as best the could. It was easier to cut ties when they left next month. Nicolò had been friendly, possibly overly friendly with the locals. He didn’t pay too much attention but he did notice one thing for certain; the way some of the local women would look at him with light in their eyes. He wasn’t sure if Nicolò had even noticed.

He’d never brought it up to him. Maybe he had a wife back home in Genova. He hadn’t thought to ask and maybe there was nothing to tell.

He pushed the thought from his mind and stared up at the sky. It was a full moon that night.

“What am I meant to be doing,” he muttered in a prayer. “Did you put us together on purpose? Why? What does that Frank have to offer to me? I don’t know what any of this means anymore.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Why didn’t you let me die?”

He didn’t expect an answer back. All he got in return was the silence of the night.

He sighed and turned his head back around to the direction of their tent. Nicolò would be sound asleep by now. Probably dreaming of returning to whatever life he had before the invasion. Before him.

He wasn’t sure if he was prepared to allow himself into the danger of letting himself get to know Nicolò. He didn’t fully trust him, even after he’d told him he wasn’t going to kill him anymore.

They hadn’t killed each other since they’d laughed about him stabbing him in their tent and he’d offered food for the next evening for a new garment.

Nicolò had ended up splitting his portion with him so neither of them had to go hungry that night. It was that kind of kindness that scared him. Part of him worried if he’d let him too close he’d immediately betray that trust. He wasn’t sure how exactly if neither of them could die but he wasn’t completely convinced Nicolò wouldn’t run off with their horse and food the first chance he had.

He took a deep breath and walked back into the tent, ready to hear the light snores of his companion.

It was one more month and then they could live in an actual place where they didn’t have to sleep so close to each other. And he could pretend he didn’t want to trace his fingers along each and every muscle of his back.

* * *

Nicolò watched from a distance as Yusuf trimmed his beard, using a pair of scissors he’d been lucky enough to trade a drawing of a nearby oasis for. He had a mirror in front of him he had also gotten from that trade.

He moved to his hair, carefully snipping the curls. He moved with such precision that it was in some ways nice to watch. He was so used to being around people who didn’t groom that he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He bathed nowhere near as much as Yusuf had although it hadn’t been something brought up.

His own beard and hair were starting to get too long and knotted. He was used to having it that way but seeing how much care Yusuf seemed to take care of his appearance made him wonder if he should start.

Yusuf must’ve relaised he had been staring and turned his head to look at him. “Yes?”

“It’s nothing.”

Yusuf didn’t press the issue.

They were so close to leaving the village in favour of a nearby city further north. Nicolò mostly wanted to get out of the desert. He’d grown tired of it since he’d first traveled through it as they were on the way to the Holy Land.

He hadn’t put too much thought in the old army. He hadn’t wanted to. The decision to leave and not return had been a complicated one. By now, he’d be deemed dead. Anyone who’d survived would’ve seen him die. Even if his body hadn’t been accounted for.

He’d considered briefly to return to camp after Yusuf stopped killing him. If he hadn’t feared the consequences that would certainly follow, whatever they may have had beenn, maybe he would’ve. He wouldn’t be questioning why possibly divine intervention paired him with an infidel at least.

An infidel who he’d enjoyed watching slightly too much.

He thought of going back inside of their tent before Yusuf spoke up. “Do you want me to trim you hair or beard?”

He turned back to Yusuf who was looking at him, still holding on his scissors. From what he could tell he’d finished grooming himself, even if the differences were only slight.

“Pardon?”

“You’re extremely unkempt and I’m tired of looking at it.”

“You don’t have to look.”

Yusuf only rolled his eyes and walked closer to him. Nicolò had been sitting on the ground near their fire and Yusuf was easily close enough to touch him. “You don’t groom enough, that’s all I am trying to say.”

His jaw clenched. “How do I know you won’t try to kill me again?”

He only smiled. Nicolò realised they hadn’t sat this close together before unless they’d been trying to kill each other. He noted he had a nice smile. “I am only trying to help you.”

He huffed through his nose. His hair was getting too long anyway and it had been bothering him. “Fine. Cut my hair to my shoulders.”

“Can I comb it too?”

“When did you get a comb?”

He didn’t respond, just gestured for him to turn around so his back was to him. He hesitated before he did and let Yusuf snip away at the matted pieces.

They didn’t talk as he did, only allowing the cracking fire and the sound of the scissors fill the silence.

Yusuf’s hand laid gently on his shoulder, brushing away the loose strands. He heard the sound of the scissors touching the ground and felt a comb run through his hair. He tilted his head back on instinct, too aware of Yusuf’s hand on his head.

“I’m done.”

He moved away, trying to not make it look like a flinch. He turned back to him and gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks.”

He held out the comb. “Keep it, there was too many knots in your hair.”

Reluctantly, he took the comb. He scratched his beard again and saw how Yusuf’s eyes went to it. “When was the last time you touched a razor?”

“Not sure. I don’t really like it getting too long but you don’t exactly take a razor to war.”

Yusuf met his eye and it looked like he’d wanted to comment on it. Instead, he said, “Do you need it shaved or trimmed?”

He should say no and just go to bed. That was the wiser decision. He’d already spent too long letting Yusuf be close to him and touch him, rather than when they would sleep close but force as much distance between them as possible.

Against his better judgment, he nodded.

Yusuf moved away as he got the water and soap ready, as well as retrieving a razor from a pouch.

When Yusuf came back to him, he allowed him to run his hand across his face to wet his beard and lather the soap.

He thought about making a joke about how if he wanted to, he could slit his throat with the razor.

He decided against it.

“How much do you want shaved off?”

“Do whatever you think looks good, I’m not attached to it.”

Yusuf held his face as the razor slid down his face. He’d leaned forward slightly and Nicolò eyes went right to his tongue. It was between his teeth as his eyes focused on his work. Like when he would draw.

During the whole process, it felt like his heart was going to burst in his chest. He put that on the fear he might slit his throat.

At some point in the process, Yusuf paused, staring at his face. His eyes moved to his. “You have a mole?”

“Uh, yes?”

A beat. “Didn’t expect you to have a mole.”

He bit the inside of his cheek as Yusuf resumed his work.

He might’ve imagine it but for a brief moment, Yusuf purposely brushed his thumb over his mole.

He set the razor down and leaned back. “Okay, I’m done.”

Instinctively, he touched his face. It was still slightly wet and he could smell the soap that was still on his face. “Can I have your mirror?”

Yusuf nodded and moved away and walked to where he’d left his pouch. He picked it up and came back in front of him. He opened it and pulled out his mirror.

He looked at his reflection and saw the neat cut of his hair. It looked a lot more tame than he’d seen it in a long time. His beard was still there, just a lot thinner. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever completely shave it all off but he’d realised he hadn’t really seen his face in a long time.

He looked back at Yusuf who was packing his things back into his pouch. He held out the mirror and he took it. “Thank you.”

He nodded, a small smile on his lips. “No problem, Nico.”

He stood up and went into their tent, leaving him alone by the fire.

It took him a few moments to realise he had called him Nico.


	2. Chapter 2

They decided to name the horse Zora. She was gentle and had a calming nature.

It took a while to agree on where they would actually go. They agreed to not go back south to the Holy Land as they would risk being recognised. Enough time had passed that they would both be deemed dead, even without their bodies being found.

They argued for a while who was going to control Zora on their travel first. Nicolò was still extremely bitter at Yusuf for killing Leonardo, which only got a scoff in return.

Yusuf put the last of their supplies on Zora and said, “We can take turns. I think it’s fair for me to go first as I am the more experienced traveler.”

Nicolò couldn’t argue with that. Yusuf came from merchants while he hadn’t left Genova until he’d left to fight. Although, he didn’t like Yusuf treating him like he was useless.

“Fine but we switch,” he begrudgingly resigned.

They got onto Zora and Yusuf took them out of the town in a trot, heading north.

The first thing Nicolò realised when they were out of the village was that he couldn’t exactly keep his balance on Zora if he didn’t hold onto Yusuf, and he’d spent the start of their trip leaning as far back from him as he could. The only touch between them was their legs.

They were maybe half an hour into their trip when Yusuf spoke.

“If you want to go faster, you will have to hold onto me.”

“I would rather not.”

“So you would rather fall off of her?”

He held back a groan. He placed his hands on Yusuf’s hips. This prompted Yusuf to go faster.

They would really need to get a second horse as soon as possible.

It was bumpy as expected, and every few moments it felt like he was going to slip off. He ignored that, this position allowed the only touch between them to be his hands on his hips and their legs bumping together while his chest remained far enough away from his back.

Nicolò as a whole was a person who avoided touch as much as possible. He’d always seen touch as something intimate. He’d hug his sister, he’d squeeze his mother’s shoulder, he would curl into the hold of lovers. He didn’t hold onto a man who was still somewhere between an enemy and an ally.

Touch was something that was tempting him however. Yusuf as a whole was tempting in ways he couldn’t begin to describe.

When they started to pick up speed, Nicolò almost fell off of Zora, causing him to wrap his arm tightly around Yusuf and his chest to slam against his back.

Yusuf felt stiff around him. They were silent for a few more moments before he said, “Just hold onto me properly so you don’t die by falling off of her and slow us down.”

Nicolò hesitated, trying to foresee exactly where an action like that would take them.

His sense caught up to him and he wrapped his arms around him tightly, his chest against his back. He let his body relax and just focus on how warm Yusuf was.

He tried to not let his mind wonder in places it shouldn’t.

After the sun had set they’d stopped at a cave to set up camp. Nicolò petted Zora’s nose, smiling at her as she neighed.

He could hear Yusuf already starting the fire inside the cave. Nicolò got the bedrolls off of her and took them into the cave.

Yusuf was bent over where he was starting the fire and Nicolò watched him for a few moments.

He was starting to realise how much he’d liked watching him. Too much.

He wasn’t naïve, he knew what that meant. He also knew that they weren’t the kind of feelings that should be placed on someone like Yusuf, someone he was begrudgingly an ally of. He wasn’t even sure he liked Yusuf as a person quite yet.

He was simply someone nice to look at. It didn’t help he hadn’t bedded anyone since before he’d left to fight. A nice tailor he’d always caught smiling at him.

He wondered if he’d heard he’d died.

He wondered if he’d even remembered him beyond that night.

He rolled out the beds and sat on his own right as the fire was lit up. He tried to keep the bedrolls as far away from each other as possible.

Yusuf fell back on his own bedroll, letting out a sigh. “Well, I guess things are going okay so far.”

Nicolò let out a snort. “Maybe. Do you even know where we’re going?”

“Yes, there’s a trail close by that will lead us up further north. My main goal is to get out of the desert. Maybe we could find a city. Lie low for a while.”

“And then what?”

He shrugged. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe we can get jobs assisting shopkeepers. Or… as mercenaries. Or something. I don’t know.”

“Mercenaries? Sorry, I don’t really feel like fighting for now.”

“Very attached to that sword though.”

“Well I’m definitely not giving that up, what if we get attacked?”

That got a laugh from Yusuf, a perfect grin and a sound that lifted his mood.

His smile faded and licked his lip. “Look, I do think we should actually work on getting along a little better. It’s become exhausting constantly feeling hostile towards you.”

He frowned. He didn’t disagree with him but he’d grown so used to it that he wasn’t sure if he was ready to take the next step like that.

When the silence stretched out too long, Yusuf spoke. “What exactly does your people teach you about mine?”

He looked away, staring down at his lap. “What do you mean?”

“Clearly you were told something about my people to feel okay with invading. Your hostility just comes across that way.”

“Are you suggesting I’d been lied to in my life?”

“Depends on what they said.”

He clenched his jaw. The truth was, he had been taught his whole life to hate Yusuf’s people. He’d never put too much thought to it since Yusuf’s people were so far away. He’d just focused on his own life before he joined the church to fight.

“We are taught your believe in a false prophet and false teachings. That’s… enough to the church. And you’re right, they do teach us to hate your people. Probably to make us feel okay about it.”

He pursed his lips. “Did you believe it?”

He paused. “I don’t know, I never had much prolonged contact with your people. I guess you cannot particularity hate what you don’t know.”

He blew air between his lips. “Okay. That’s awful, for one thing. Fine, you think we believe in a false prophet but how does that justify your people invading.”

Before he could even consider it, he said, “It’s doesn’t.”

They fell into silence. He kept his eyes on the fire, his knees drawing to his chest.

“Well, that’s a start. But why did you fight?”

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip and looked up at him. “I felt like I had to, more or less. I was convinced by the church that my sins will be forgiven if I go and fight for the church. That I’d get to go to Heaven. That’s what the Pope said would happen. I was ready to die for it all.” He snorted. “Fucking irony.”

Yusuf frowned. “What sins do you even mean?”

“Well, let’s simply say that one reason I became a priest was a means to avoid having to marry a woman.”

Yusuf stared at him, realisation drawing on his face. “Oh.”

Yusuf’s tongue ran across his top lip and stared outside. “I don’t have a wife either. I’d used traveling as a merchant as an excuse, saying I’d never found the time to really meet someone long enough to get married and have a family. It’s how I ended up in the Holy Land, I wouldn’t leave much behind and I knew it was the right thing to do.”

“Maybe it was.”

A beat. “Why didn’t you ever take a wife?”

He felt like he knew, that he could leave it to go unsaid. But he had to know that was exactly what Yusuf had meant. To know that some twisted divine had to put them together and that was for whatever a reason a factor as well.

Yusuf met his eye and Nicolò wasn’t sure what was in them other than a resigned expression. “I’m going to get some sleep.”

Before he could argue or ask again, Yusuf went to lay on his bedroll with his back turned to him.

He thought about asking again, just so he could know for certain and he hadn’t misunderstood Yusuf. The way Yusuf sounded hesitant made him unsure enough to at least ask to make sure they were in one way the same.

He didn’t though, he curled up on his bedroll and let himself fall asleep.

* * *

They were able to get a room in an inn which was beyond a relief for Yusuf.

Nicolò had drove Zora for a few hours although he was hopeless at navigating and let him tell him where to go. During the entire ride, Yusuf had his arms tightly around him and had put his chin on his shoulder to be able to see ahead. Nicolò spent the first ten minutes of that time completely stiff.

Yusuf was still having a hard time putting the pieces together when it came to Nicolò. Hearing his reasoning for joining the fight with the church had been the closest he’d come to feeling bad for him. If his desires fell with men over women like himself then maybe he could start to understand him.

What was hard to hear was that he went in knowing he’d died as a result. Had Nicolò ever even considered fighting for his own life? Was it all just his final hope to be absolved on his sins? Yusuf had no idea what to even think of that. It did make him at least consider opening up more to him if his reasoning for joining the invasion was a lifetime of taught hatred (that he could only hope was fading away) and guilt from a sin that Yusuf had learned for himself a long time ago couldn’t be shaken off by praying hard enough.

Nicolò was washing himself up when Yusuf entered their room. He had taken out some fruit that could act as dinner. He had been able to convince Nicolò to bathe more and that was already making it easier for him to warm up to him.

Nicolò turned his head to him. He was holding onto a razor. “Do you think you could do it? You give a much more even shave than I can.”

He looked at the blade then at Nicolò. His eyes bore into him and it made it difficult to say no.

He nodded and approached him after setting the fruit down. He got a small smile in return and they sat on the ground together.

They didn’t exchange words as he shaved him. He kept his eyes on his jaw, he knew if he looked up he’d be met with those warm eyes.

When he was done, he moved away as casually as he could even though he was desperate to stay near him.

He silently cursed himself for letting those feelings start to surface, even if they were purely physical.

Nicolò cleared his throat. “You never answered my question from last night.”

He swallowed thickly and wondered if he’d imagined Nicolò learning slightly closer to him. “What question?”

“Why didn’t you ever take a wife?”

It felt like he could feel the heat coming off of his body. “I think you know why, Nico.”

There was a flicker in his eyes at the nickname. He leaned slightly back and nodded. “Okay.”

That was where they left it. They put together their dinner and ate on their own beds, staying far away from the other. Yusuf did his best to not look at Nicolò once, even as the silence became aching.

He’d meant it when he’d said he’d wanted them to try to get along. He could only hope that that feeling was mutual. It’d been a few months now and there was no going back, their families were probably informed of their deaths. Yusuf didn’t have much of anything to go back to, only well meaning parents who he hadn’t seen in years after he’d left to be a merchant and who would ask if he’d found a wife on his travels. He was the youngest of three sons, they wouldn’t be losing much through him not giving them that.

Regardless, he missed them a lot. He should go back to see them eventually even if the travel was long. They likely wouldn’t believe him when he would explain why he was alive. Maybe be shocked he was willingly spending time with a Frank.

He wondered if destiny had a sense of humour. That could be the only reason he was put with a man like Nicolò. Every aspect of him was exactly what should be avoided for a man like himself. He hadn’t even known he’d been a priest. Who knew what kind of shame he was holding onto. Yusuf decided he wasn’t going to take it upon himself to deal with his issues.

As he fell asleep, he saw flashes on those two women in his dreams. He couldn’t place the location but it looked like it was towards the east by the sea. He saw them running along the shore and one of the two women stopped the other by her hand. Laughter, and lips meeting sweetly.

When he woke up, it was still dark. He stared at the ceiling wide eyed as sweat trickled down his forehead.

The dreams had been going on since day one. Part of him thought they didn’t mean anything at first but they kept happening, an almost forceful persistence.

He was about to turn over and try to fall asleep when he heard a soft voice.

“You see them too, don’t you?”

He looked over at Nicolò who had turned onto his side. Hair had fallen over his face as they stared at each other.

Yusuf thought about saying he wasn’t sure what he meant, then go back to sleep with his back to him. It would be the easiest option and maybe it would stop Nicolò from trying to get close to him. Even if they remained allies, he knew the best option was to always keep him at arms length.

Instead, he let out a breath. “Yes. I have.”

Nicolò propped himself up on his elbow. “What do you think they mean?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know. If we’re having them every night they might mean something.”

“Like… maybe they’re like us? They cannot die.”

He swallowed. “Maybe. Would that mean we’re meant to find them?”

“Maybe. Maybe destiny wants us to be together. For all we know, they know why this happened to us.”

“I doubt it. I can’t even tell where they are.”

“We can worry about it another time.” Nicolò yawned. “Let’s go back to sleep, I’m exhausted.”

He didn’t argue and curled up, closing his eyes and listening to the sound of Nicolò breathing.

Neither of them mentioned how the dream had ended.

* * *

When they reached a small village, they found a job guarding a merchant named Omar. They had skills in the area and at that point, they might as well put it to good use. Omar paid well and Yusuf had brought up his own experience as a merchant to help persuade their new client.

The merchant himself travailed a lot which meant they were never in the same place for too long. He had a horse he could spare of Nicolò to ride, and Nicolò let his relief show. Things were still kind of tense between himself and Yusuf, although they were slowly warming up to each other. Even if it was just barely.

Nicolò could tell Yusuf was holding back. Maybe it was at his own fault, his efforts of making a friendly companionship had been minimal. He’d been the one to drown him for no reason in the oasis their first day together. It was its own miracle that Yusuf had bothered to remain his ally throughout everything.

Lately he’d done his best to see Yusuf for who he was. He’d paid close attention to how he would tickle his horse’s ear when they would trot, how he’d always smell his food before taking the first bite, how he’d try to fix his curls during the day by running his fingers through them gently.

There was a lot of Yusuf, maybe many things he hadn’t noticed whilst not allowing him to get closer than they could’ve.

They were camped out for the night, sleeping outside the merchant’s tent to stand guard. They usually took turns so one would sleep and the other could keep watch. Nicky had taken it upon himself to go first that night but he noticed that Yusuf hadn’t gone to sleep yet. Instead, he was drawing with charcoal on a pad.

It reminded him of those few months ago where he’d asked him if he could draw him. It hadn’t been brought up since that night and Nicolò hadn’t thought about it. He wasn’t even sure if Yusuf had still wanted to draw him as he’d never brought it up himself.

“You should rest,” Nicolò said in Arabic, breaking the silence between them. He’d been working a lot on his Arabic, even more so as they’d traveled to cities where it was the language spoken. It was starting to become tiring having Yusuf translate everything for him.

Yusuf looked up from his pad and shrugged. “I’m fine, Nico.”

He’d developed the habit of calling him ‘Nico’. At no point had he tried to stop him, or even had considered suggesting it. He kind of enjoyed the sound of the nickname on his tongue. It was the kind of affection that may make them developing a friendship more likely. Maybe eventually they could be like brothers.

He kept his focus on the road, gripping on his longsword tightly. He could hear the sound of Yusuf’s charcoal scrapping against the parchment. He hadn’t asked what he was drawing, and he doubted he would tell him. Most of the time, Yusuf refused to show his work until it was done, or mostly done. He recalled him saying something about it not looking good enough until he’d finished the shading properly.

He looked back at Yusuf when he was sure there was no sounds of anyone coming. “By any chance, Yusuf, did you still want to draw me?”

His head shot up and his eyes boar into him. “Sorry?”

He cleared his throat, maintaining the eye contact as kindly as possible. “You said months ago you wanted to draw me for practice, correct?”

He paused. “I did, yes.”

“Well, I’m not doing anything else. Maybe you could do it now if you wanted?”

There was a long, drawn out silence. Yusuf was fiddling with his charcoal between two fingers before he nodded. “Okay, I can do that. You’re right, I need to practice drawing people and you are right there. It is helpful.”

He gave him a small smile. “I’m happy to help.”

They fell silence as Yusuf turned a new page of parchment and started to draw. Nicolò looked back at the path, keeping an eye out for any trouble. It was dead silent that night, as they were in the middle of a trail and not many people would pass by at that time of night. Maybe only travelers who wanted to make the most of time as possible. Or bandits, trying to steal merchandise and kill anyone who got in their way. That was why he and Yusuf were there after-all.

He noticed that when Yusuf would looked up at him, it wasn’t quick glances like he would do when he drew landscapes. His eyes stayed on him for a few seconds, like he wanted to get every small detail of him memorised before making a single stroke.

He focused back on the road as best he could but the feeling of Yusuf watching him put heat up his spine. He wanted to look back at him and see those warm brown eyes. They were the kindest eyes he’d ever seen in his life when they had their moments together where there was some friendliness.

They stayed like that until Nicolò started having difficulty keeping his eyes open. He told Yusuf this.

“Sleep, I’m fully awake.” He set his pad and charcoal down, picking up his scimitar that was sitting by his side.

He gave him a smile and went to lay down on his bedroll. He noticed how Yusuf had flipped the page. Instead of seeing himself staring back at him, he saw a drawing of Zora.

“Goodnight, Yusuf,” he said as he curled into a ball.

“Goodnight, Nicolò.”

He had the most peaceful sleep that night.

* * *

Drawing Nicolò could definitely go into the category of his worst ideas.

Yusuf hadn’t ever really had the chance to really look at Nicolò. He’d always brushed off certain things, his skin was too pale, his eyes were too light, his hair had no texture to it.

When he had the chance to really look at him, in ways different from when he would help him shave, it started to really settle in his stomach that he liked looking at him. His skin had moles that he wanted to count, his eyes could be so kind, his hair was something he wanted to run his fingers through.

He was a beautiful man. It was the simplest way to put it. He was a gorgeous thing to look at. He wanted to stare at him long enough so he could memorise every small feature of him, every mole, every hair. He wanted to figure out the exact colour of his eyes. He wanted to perfectly find the shape of his nose. He wanted to grasp exactly how his lips quirked up into a smile.

Drawing him more was going to become a problem. He wanted to finish the piece he’d started but he wanted to do many more. With men he’d had admired in the past he would keep his drawings to himself while he would watch from afar. Sometimes those men became quick ruts in his tent whilst he was still traveling as a merchant. Sometimes, he forgot about the men entirely.

Nicolò didn’t fit into either category. He knew he was drawing him now and if he’d found him drawing him more without his permission, that would lead to an incredibly uncomfortable situation. Just because they shared their interests lying in men it didn’t mean Nicolò was in any means interested in him. Yusuf wasn’t even sure if he himself was interested in Nicolò or if he simply liked looking at the other man.

His thoughts were interrupted by Zora’s neigh. He scratched her behind the ear and looked forward.

Nicolò rode ahead of him and he watched as his back flexed on his horse who did not have a name. Omar had refused to name him as he hadn’t wanted to get attached. Nicolò was still in the process of trying to figure a name for him, which had taken up their conversation for most of the trip to the next city. Omar rode behind them, not putting in his own thoughts.

“What about Bonifaci? That fits him,” said Nicolò, in okay Arabic. He had still been learning and at that point it was passable. He’d still forget words here and there, replacing them with Greek. It was kind of nice to see he was finally attempting to put in the effort instead of the two of them constantly speaking Greek. In turn, Yusuf had been trying to improve his Zeneize. It was a fair trade in the end.

“How so?”

“He looks like a Bonifaci.”

Yusuf wasn’t sure what a Bonifaci would look like but he took his word for it, deciding to not hold back his smile. It’s not like he could see it, unless he turned around.

As if he had heard his thoughts, Nicolò turned his head to look at him and Yusuf still had a grin on his face when he did. He immediately dropped it, maintaining a neutral expression.

Nicolò stared at him for a few moments and gave him a smile in return. “I like your smile, there’s no need to hide it.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of his tone. It wasn’t suggestive, it sounded like he wanted to give him a genuine compliment, with nothing underlying. His own smile felt like an encouragement to tell him that he could do those kinds of things around him. An absolutely gorgeous method.

He rode the rest of the way with the biggest smile on his face.

* * *

When they reached Damascus Omar paid for the inn they would stay in. He reserved a room for himself and one for Nicolò and Yusuf to share. He’d said something about needing his privacy and neither of them were going to argue.

Yusuf was washing up in the basin while Nicolò sat at his bed. He was waiting for Yusuf to come and shave him when he was done.

It’d turned into a routine. There wasn’t always a mirror available and Nicolò wasn’t prepared to try and shave himself quite yet. It was a good step forward for their allyship too. They had found that comfortable place where their companionship was a lot less reluctant and had evolved into a friendship they both needed. It had taken time but it was for the better. He’d started to really enjoy Yusuf’s company.

“Okay, ready?” Yusuf asked and sat in front of him.

He nodded and let Yusuf wet his face and lather on soap. He’d recently let his facial hair grow out a little more so he’d asked Yusuf to keep a good amount on his face instead of shaving all of it off.

He enjoyed how Yusuf would watch his jaw as he’d shave him. It was a song and dance they had gotten used to. Except the more they would do it, the more he’d feel a twist in his chest. It had started out as something small he barely noticed. He’d assumed it was nothing more than the usual feeling he got around attractive men.

Except he was starting to realise whatever he’d been feeling for Yusuf was different. Almot everything he’d had in the past were purely physical since falling in love had never been an option for him. His heart could ache and yearn all it wanted but he had been a priest for a long time.

A friendship between him and Yusuf had been unlikely, they still barely were, anything more would simply be impossible. They would probably eventually leave each other anyway. Being unable to die was still difficult to entirely process. It’d been so many months and he still wasn’t sure he ever would process it.

When he was done, he barely moved away. “Do you want a trim too?”

He let himself smile at the ask. “That’d be nice.”

He turned around and let Yusuf run his fingers through his hair. It had become routine but he still got a shiver when he felt Yusuf touch him. When his fingers brushed against the back of his neck, he had to stop himself from falling back into his touch.

He silently cursed himself for his thoughts.

“How long do you think we should keep this job for?” Yusuf asked. “Omar said he was planning to settle in Aleppo. Should we keep moving or settle there ourselves?”

He ignored the feeling of him running his fingers through his hair in such a casual manner. “Sure, not a terrible idea.”

“Mhm, it’s still a Muslim state too.”

“Good.”

His fingers stopped. “You turned on your people quickly.”

“Yeah, I guess I figured out we were the bad guys.”

He’d been doing a lot of thinking. After bouncing around Muslim states, meeting more people, and seeing how they weren’t the picture of what had been painted for him for thirty years of his life, Nicolò had been forced to reevaluate everything he’d been taught. Learning the language and working with those people had lead him to that crushing realisation that he’d lied to all of his life. It made him sick he’d let himself believe it for as long as he’d had and how he’d never even thought to question it either.

Behind him, Yusuf returned to running his fingers through his hair. “Glad we’ve come to that agreement. I might even forgive you eventually.”

He could hear the sincerity in his voice and that made it worth it. “You’re a good man, Yusuf.”

“And I think you might be too, under all that unwashed Christian.”

He couldn’t help it, he laughed. He laughed so hard his back hit Yusuf’s chest. Yusuf caught him as he did, his arms catching his waist as he laughed too.

He didn’t move immediately, and Yusuf didn’t push him away. His arms were so warm around him. They fit almost like they belonged.

When he realised he was letting his mind stray away too far, he leaned forward to get away from his hold. From what it felt like, it took Yusuf a moment to realise what they were doing and let go quickly.

Yusuf continued to trim his hair liked nothing had happened. Nicolò already missed the feel of his strong arms.

It wasn’t quite yet nightfall so Yusuf suggested they got to the bazaar, if just to see what they could find as well as maybe get some food for travel. Yusuf seemed to really like plums.

They walked around the bazaar in mostly silence. Nicolò looked over some of the jewelry one person had set out before Yusuf tugged on his arm, warning him that if he wasn’t careful someone might take advantage of him and his money.

Yusuf didn’t say much as he bought food for the both of them. They mostly shared the little money they did have, like everything else. Part of him was worried he was attaching himself a little too much to Yusuf. Whatever was preventing their deaths clearly wanted them to stick together but part of him worried what would happen if they did eventually try to go off on their own. The companionship, close enough to be called a friendship now, still felt in many ways wrong. They had been on opposite sides of a war an whether it was God or whoever, someone wanted them to find peace within each other. Which was proving to be difficult but was starting to feel possible.

He watched as Yusuf picked up food and he couldn’t stop his smile. Whatever friendship they had developing, he could see it potentially one day become strong.

With their food, they started to walk back to the inn.

“We could try to get some mercenary jobs in Aleppo. Omar probably won’t need us anymore,” Yusuf said as they walked down the trail to the inn.

Nicolò nodded along. “Sure. They probably pay better too.”

“Possibly, I will much prefer it to trying to milk a goat.” Yusuf gave a shudder. “Lets never try farm work again.”

“I will hold you to that one.”

“Please do so.”

In the moonlight, Yusuf’s eyes sparkled and Nicolò’s mind buzzed.

Whether this was them gaining peace or something else, he liked it. He liked it very much.

“What?” Yusuf asked, staring at him curiously.

He blinked. “Nothing.”

Yusuf bit his lip but didn’t say anything on the topic as they continued to walk.

They reached the inn, a few men standing around the front. Nicolò paid them no mind. All of his attention was on Yusuf.

He was ready to sleep and continue their way to Aleppo. It may be nice to settle there for a while and figure out their next move. The mercenary jobs were a pretty great idea, one they’d discussed for months but had yet to follow through with. It would definitely pay more, they might even be able to buy a place to live instead of staying in their tent, caves, or inns.

That vision shattered down in almost an instant.

“Nicolò?”

He stopped in his tracks. Next to him, he could practically feel Yusuf stiffen.

He turned his head around and among the men who were stood outside the inn was a face he had no thought of in so long.

Even in the darkness, Filipo looked the same. Kind blue eyes, soft black hair, pale skin without a single blemish. It felt like his heart would explode in his chest.

He gaped at him for a few moments before he spoke. “Hi.”

Next to him, Yusuf was staring Filipo down with a suspicious twinge in his eyes. His lips were in a straight line and his shoulders were tense while he clenched his jaw.

Before he could really process it, Filipo threw his arms around him in a tight hug. He held back a gasp from the shock and how tight it was while he hugged him back.

“It’s good to see you! How long has it been?” He said it in Zeneize, and Nicolò realised how long it had been since he’d heard the dialect in the easy flow of a native speaker.

“So long,” Nicolò said with a smile. When he let him go he said, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Ah yes, I’m in the middle of some traveling. I have a home just north from here in Antioch.”

He glanced at Yusuf who now had a blank expression. It didn’t need to be said that Antioch had been taken over by Crusaders a few years ago. If Filipo was there then that told Yusuf everything he needed to know about him.

“I’m being rude, how did you end up here?” Filipo said.

“He’s been working with me,” said Yusuf, raising his voice for the first time in the conversation.

Filipo looked at him, as if he’d only realised now that Yusuf had been standing there at all. “Oh, apolgies, I should introduce myself. I’m Filipo, I’m an old friend of Nico’s.”

Nicolò didn’t miss how his lips twitched downwards at the use of the nickname. “Yusuf.”

“Yusuf,” Filipo echoed, something in his voice Nicolò couldn’t quite place. “That’s an interesting name.”

Yusuf’s eyes turned cold.

“Anyway, yes, me and Yusuf have been doing some work together,” Nicolò said, maybe a little too quickly. “We’ve been helping a merchant in his travels.”

He gave him a curious look. “Oh, I’m assuming you left the priesthood then?”

He nodded. “Yes.” At least that part was true. “I wanted to see more of our beautiful world.”

Next to him, Yusuf was tense. Nicolò ignored the images of them killing each other that ran through his mind and probably through Yusuf’s.

“Well, I’m staying here for the night. We should talk more in the morning.”

Nicolò nodded. “We should.” He turned to Yusuf. “We need to get sleep anyway.”

Yusuf only gave a small nod and didn’t give Filipo another look as he walked to their room, leaving Nicolò behind.

“I’m surprised your… companion speaks Zeneize so well,” Filipo said.

Nicolò pulled his eyes from Yusuf’s back and stared at Filipo. “Uh…yeah. He was a merchant, I’ve been helping him improve.” It had actually progressed well, as had Nicolò’s Arabic. He was surprised by his willingness to learn as they were far away from his homeland where it would be useful.

Filipo nodded slowly. “I will let you get your rest. I will see you in the morning?”

He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

When he returned to his and Yusuf’s room, he saw Yusuf was sitting on his bed. Nicolò hesitated before sitting on his own across from him.

“Old friend?” Yusuf asked, barley looking at him.

Nicolò nodded. “We knew each other as kids. We were from the same village.”

“Okay.”

He paused, thinking of what even to say. Filipo had been a childhood friend. He’d also been the first boy he’d noticed in a further than platonic way. Filipo had no clue of that, he’d left for Sicily when Nicolò started to study at the seminary. He used to imagine his hands on him when he’d started to allow himself to explore his own desires.

He’d completely forgotten about him years ago. Childhood feelings had become something insignificant and into a distant memory.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell Yusuf that. In most ways, it wasn’t his business. What he’d told Yusuf was all he needed to know. Even if he was looking at him as if he was waiting for more.

Yusuf cleared his throat. “We should get some rest.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Nicolò went to lay down, making sure his back was to Yusuf. He tried to let his body relax but he was hyper aware Yusuf was watching him. It took everything in him to not turn around and look back at him.

He heard Yusuf shuffle, probably lay down too. He tried to not think too much about what had gone unsaid.

* * *

“These plums are certainly divine,” Filipo said as the juice ran down his chin.

Nicolò glanced at Yusuf he had a slight clenched jaw. It hadn’t left since they’d met Filipo in his room. He’d offered them some breakfast.

Omar wanted to leave later in the day since he had a buyer of an old piece of jewelry. That had left him and Yusuf with more time with Filipo than either had expected.

“Where were you two headed in your travel?” Filipo asked, eyes on Nicolò, the question clearly directed at him.

“Aleppo, we were thinking of settling there for a while,” he shrugged, taking a bite of his own plum.

“Settling how so?” For a moment, his eyes shifted between them.

Yusuf was the one to speak first. “Work there, nothing out of the ordinary.”

Filipo gave a hum. “Together?”

“Yes.”

Filipo looked at Yusuf and Nicolò could see all the thoughts in his eyes as he stared at him. Whatever conclusions he was making went unsaid. It wasn’t like they could tell him the real reason they were traveling and working together. He wouldn’t put it passed Filipo to throw the both of them into a church and ask for a exorcism.

They finished their breakfast and Yusuf headed outside to check on the horses, leaving him fully alone with Filipo.

When the door closed behind him, Filipo looked at Nicolò curiously.

“Okay, what has he against you?”

He blinked. “Pardon?”

“I’m sure there must be a deeper reason for you to travel with an infidel. Has he blackmailed you? Or has he bewitched you?”

He held back a scoff. “No. We just fell in with each other… uh, we both started working on the same farm and found we worked well together. We continued to find jobs together, splitting the earnings. We found it was a lot easier for us to be hired if there was two of us.”

Filipo made a face. “But he’s… an infidel.”

He bit his lip. His mind was screaming at him to ask him to at least call him a Muslim, rather than stooping to calling him such a degrading term.

But the words were caught in his throat. And he felt so much shame.

“Come with me to Antioch.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I was heading back today, you should come with me. I have an extra room you can sleep in.” He leaned forward. “We could always use an extra person for the Crusades.”

Nausea crept in his stomach. “I’ve decided to avoid that fight.”

“Even still, I could use company. I may be better company than the infidel.”

_His name is Yusuf._

“And I’d be happy to provide. I doubt you like working much. I mean, farm labour? That would get more out of you than when you were a priest.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He should say no, he should’ve said it by then. He was traveling with Yusuf because the fates had brought them together for a reason neither of them could comprehend.

But he had no good excuse for Filipo to stay with Yusuf. To him, Yusuf was someone Nicolò was stuck with and not a friend. He couldn’t know the truth of their companionship.

“I’m not going to join in the Crusades. But okay, I will leave with you. Stability for a while would be much enjoyable.”

Filipo seemed to beam at his words. “Wonderful! I’ll let you tell your companion and we can meet on our horses.”

Nicolò gave a weak smile and a nod. “Yeah. Of course.”

He found Yusuf tending to Zora outside. He was patting her nose and she gave an affectionate neigh.

He approached Yusuf and cleared his throat. Yusuf turned his head to look at him and he was met with those kind brown eyes.

“Omar said we should leave in an hour. He wants to travel for a while. We will likely have another camp out.”

He didn’t want to humour Yusuf, so instead of even giving a nod he said, “I’m leaving with Filipo.”

The look that crossed Yusuf’s face was one he couldn’t quite place. It was clearly disappointment but there might’ve been something else to it. “Wait, you want to leave? With him?”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “He has a place in Antioch. I think I just need to rest for a while with familiar company.”

Even as he vocalised it, he realised how much his decision didn’t make sense. But he couldn’t make sense of something that was fuelled by fear of something he couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Oh. Well, okay. If that’s what you want I’m not going to stop you,” Yusuf said with a shrug. Whether he was holding in more hurt he couldn’t tell.

And it kind of hurt he wasn’t even going to try and convince him to stay.

“Okay. Uh, I will probably leave eventually. Depends on how this immortality keeps, we’re not sure if we age or not yet,” Nicolò said. He hoped that Yusuf understood those words for what they were, that he did want to see him again eventually.

Yusuf didn’t nod, he just stared at him. “Let Omar know before you leave. Have a safe trip to Antioch.”

“Likewise.”

Omar was kind enough to give him his part of the pay for the travel that had been completed. He thanked him as graciously as he could and apologised he’d only have one person to guard him now.

As he packed his things onto Bonifaci, Filipo waiting ahead of the trail on his own horse, he heard the clearing of a throat behind him.

He turned his head from his satchel to see Yusuf. He looked a little cleaned up compared to that morning. His beard looked cleaner and his curls smoother. Nicolò couldn’t help but wonder what those curls would feel like between his fingers.

“Hi,” said Nicolò.

Yusuf nodded. “I wanted to see you off. We have been through so much these months that it felt wrong to leave without doing so.”

His back felt hot at his words. “There was no need to.”

“I wanted to.”

His words were so defiant that for a moment, Nicolò thought he’d misheard him.

Yusuf let out a sigh. “If you really want to leave, then take this.” He took his hand and pressed something into his palm. Nicolò looked down and saw it was the razor they’d been using. “Keep up the personal hygiene. It suits you.”

He met his eye and smiled at him. He was still cradling his hand in his. “Thank you, Yusuf.”

“Anything, Nico.”

It was the first time he’d called him Nico since Filipo had called him it but he decided to not think too much about it.

They looked at each other for a few long moments. The temptation to step forward and hug him was definitely there. They hadn’t ever hugged before but after everything they had gone through, it felt almost wrong to not.

Maybe he would’ve but he saw how Yusuf was now crossing his arms. He doubted they’d open invitingly to allow him to be held within them.

“Also, I have something else,” Yusuf said and he went to his satchel that was already prepared on Zora to pull out his pad. He flipped through the pages and tore out one. When he came back to him, he held it out. “Here.”

He looked down at the page and saw his own image staring back at him.

Nicolò had never been able to fully grasp the concept of art. He could never understand how people were able to capture something through the right strokes and shading.

Seeing an almost mirror image of himself displayed in charcoal was astounding.

He’d mostly forgotten Yusuf had been practicing to draw people by drawing him. He’d never asked him if he could finish it, meaning a certain amount of this had to either be from memory or watching him from afar.

It felt wrong to allow him to part with it. “Keep it, I have nothing to give you to remember me fondly by.”

“Nico, I do not need material things to be able to remember you fondly.”

His heart sank and he looked back up at Yusuf. His lips were pressing together in a thin line. His brown eyes felt like they held the world. He could see all the potential the two of them had in them. He wanted to stay with Yusuf, to find out everything they could be.

But he didn’t. He stepped backwards and put the razor into his on satchel. He climbed onto Bonifaci.

“Until we see each other again,” he said to Yusuf, who was staring back at him as if he were to the only thing in the world.

“Until next time,” Yusuf responded. He didn’t miss the crack in his voice. “You know where to find me.”

Aleppo. He nodded and gave one last wave before he kicked on Bonifaci to follow Filipo who had been waiting for him down the trail.

Filipo was looking at him and he could tell he had a million and one questions but they all went unsaid.

Together they made their way to Antioch, and Nicolò tried to not look back.


	3. Chapter 3

Omar wasn’t a conversational person. Yusuf had learned that quickly. Long treks had been filled with his and Nicolò conversing about everything and nothing, an improvement from when they’d first met.

Yusuf hadn’t been in the mood to talk anyway. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised Nicolò would choose to go back with his own people rather than stay with him due to circumstance. Part of him had still thought Nicolò had been becoming a better man.

He was a fool, one close to opening his heart to the man. It ached now to even suggest to himself there could’ve one day been more between them.

He’d been intimate with men enough times in his life that one more shouldn’t have made that much of a difference. They’d never even had so much as hugged, unless one really wanted to count how he’d fallen into his arms in a fit of laughter. He didn’t though.

He hadn’t allowed himself real intimacy with a man, not any kind that would be memorable at least. His plan had always been to bounce around until his mother finally wore him down into having a wife and he was out of excuses, even if he’d told himself he’d avoid it. Then he’d chosen to be noble and defend the Holy Land, knowing it was something good to die for. When he didn’t die and he was stuck with a dirty unwashed Frank bent on killing him, it felt like God or whatever was behind it had been laughing down on him. Some sort of punishment for running away from his problems instead of being honest.

When the sun was starting to set, they stopped to camp out. Omar settled in his tent without saying a word to him.

Yusuf sat on the ground, his scimitar on the ground. He’d started a fire and pulled out his pad to draw on.

He stared at the blank parchment for a few moments, the charcoal between his fingers.

He shouldn’t dwell on things too much. He hadn’t known Nicolò all that long. His company had been nice and it probably would’ve been more difficult to have woken up from death alone. Nicolò served as something, even if neither of them liked it at first.

He could vividly imagine his face now. He slowly finished the portrait of him, trying his best to perfect the shape of his nose and the placement of his mole and the way his lips would curve into a smile.

Gorgeous, plain and simple. He didn’t like admitting it to himself. He wasn’t ever going to tell Nicolò that. Bedding an enemy was much, much worse than befriending them. Even if their enmity had conceded for the most part.

At least he seemed to realise the wrong doings he’d taken part of before running off with what he’d known his entire life.

He sighed and looked to the stars. It was a full moon tonight and it provided light in the darkness. He imagined what it would be like to simply lay there with Nicolò, not working and not with an air of hostility. Just the two of them in each other’s company finding joy in being together.

He scoffed at his own thoughts. It was ridiculous really, to imagine such things. He was too old to daydream about those kind of things.

He set his pad aside, put his eyes back on the path, and kept a sharp eye out for bandits.

* * *

They arrived to Antioch almost too quickly and Filipo took him straight to his home.

It was a small place, two rooms to it. Nicolò wouldn’t call it welcoming or even a real home. It was possible that was all Filipo desired while living in a state ruled by the Crusaders.

He decided against thinking about the implications of that. Instead, he focused on trying to figure out what to do now that he was there.

He knew he wasn’t going to go back to fighting. Fighting had been his worst idea. Even if his sins would’ve been forgiven through the fight he started to really realise the ramifications of it all. Yusuf probably saw him as a selfish man for fighting to be forgiven for sins he’d made the decision to make.

He pushed Yusuf from his mind. He was the one thing he wasn’t going to allow himself to think about. If he gave it enough time regret would start to eat him and he’d likely leave Filipo to go to Aleppo to try and find him. Hopefully he doesn’t stay so long that Yusuf leaves before he could.

A month went by all too quickly and he’d met more Crusaders. They talked a lot about their families back home or lovers they’d taken, sometimes they’d talk about the war. Nicolò kept quiet about being one of the first invaders. He was really going to have to learn to live with that guilt after meeting Yusuf.

It had been a mostly uneventful time. He’d allowed himself to sleep in instead of worrying about waking up in the early hours. He’d practiced his swordsmanship with some other Crusaders on days he got bored. He read to some children who looked at him curiously.

He’d avoided questions of what he’d done in the last year. He’d said he’d left the priesthood because he’d felt God wanted him to see more of the world. He kept quiet when they’d come across the few Muslims on the edge of the city and asked him questions in Arabic. Even when it aas something as simple as asking for directions.

He’d done his best to not think about Yusuf.

The last thing had proved to be the most difficult.

His room in Antioch was small. It had a real bed, a basin, and a small mirror. He had a window too but it didn’t show out to anything remarkable. Nicolò preferred to keep away from it.

One evening two months into living in the city, his beard had started to get a little too long. He decided to pull out the razor Yusuf had given him, to shave. Him set up the mirror, filled the basin with boiled water, and stared at his own relfection and he gripped the razor.

Slowly, he started to shave. He gasped for a moment, realising he might’ve pressed too hard as he felt a sting in his cheek. Not even a drip of blood came before the wound quickly healed.

He sighed to himself and tried not to press as hard. He lightly graze the hairs, which gave a more inconsistent cut.

He sighed again and set the razor down, staring at his own reflection. Yusuf had always shaved for him. The reason he hadn’t done it himself in so long was because he’d grown so used to it. The most he would do was trim it, keeping a razor away from his face entierly.

He picked up the razor again and tried to find an in between so he wouldn’t cut himself but still got enough hair off of his face.

When he got to a point he was satisfied with, he set the razor down and washed the soap off of his face. It looked decent, passable even. Maybe still something Yusuf would find a way to tease him for. He’d found himself missing that.

He stood up and walked into the shared living space where Filipo was sitting. He was in the midst of writing a letter to Sicily.

He’d mentioned about eventually leaving for a small island in the Mediterranean the Kingdom of Sicily had recently occupied, having taken it from the Arabs. All he really knew was that there was a process of it becoming a Christian nation and its people still spoke Arabic. Filipo had said it was proving difficult to teach the inhabitants their own language after speaking Arabic for 200 years.

“Apparently Paul the Apostle was shipwrecked there,” Filipo had said when he’d told him about the island. “I wouldn’t mind settling there when I’m officially done fighting.”

“Maybe I will go there myself one day,” was all Nicolò had replied with.

Filipo looked up from his letter. His brows rose slightly. “You shaved?”

He shrugged. “I think it looks better than just having it hanging down my chin.”

“Hope you didn’t nick your mole.”

He had kept enough hair on his face to cover the mole. He was surprised he remembered his mole. Nicolò used to hate it. He’d mostly hated it until Yusuf had affectionately made note of it the first time he’d shaved him.

He decided to pull out some meat they had to eat. It was some goat meat and it tasted pretty nice. When he bought it for himself and Filipo, he remembered him noting how there was no blood on the flesh.

“It’s Halal. It’s blood has been drained. It’s just how Muslims eat their meat.” He’d repeated the same words Yusuf had said to him what now felt like a long time ago.

Filipo hadn’t said anything more on the topic afterward and Nicolò had left him to prepare their dinner.

“Nico, could you come here?” Filipo asked as he was about to go outside to start the fire and cook the meat as he didn’t have an oven. He frowned at him and walked towards him.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to go drinking. You so rarely leave that I thought you needed to have some fun.”

He wasn’t sure what Filipo’s version of ‘fun’ exactly was. He wasn’t sure if he even trusted it. He’d come out drunk many times before that Nicolò hadn’t been sure he wanted to find out. He wasn’t much of a social drinker and he’d rarely come across alcohol in his time with Yusuf. He’d been too busy to go out drinking even if he’d wanted to anyway.

He also didn’t like Filipo’s friends. They reminded him of the kind of person he used to be and wanted to leave behind before he’d fallen into Filipo.

It was expected, this was Crusader land now. He knew what it was, he’d willingly participated. Even if he’d been persuaded, he’d still made that choice. Yusuf was better off without him.

He nodded. “Okay, I’ll go. Maybe I could use some time out.”

Filipo absolutely beamed at the answer.

* * *

He’d been able to get a place for himself in Aleppo. He’d started to gain reputation as a skilled mercenary. He drawn more and sold a few portraits. His life was mostly back on track to being somewhat normal.

Yusuf had mostly thrown himself into work. It had become a comfortable stability. And if he ever got lonely, he just found someone to take to bed and pretend he wasn’t wishing for those familiar eyes staring back at him.

It was like he was back to his merchant days. He wasn’t obligated to anyone, it was just him and his independence.

He stared out his window as he sat with his pad in his lap. He’d been having a dry spell when it came to inspiration. It came easier when someone wanted something specific but just sitting down and doing it for fun was proving to be much more difficult than it used to be.

His charcoal sat between his fingers and let out a sigh. He looked down at his satchel and could see the folded parchment. He stared at it for a few moments before he leaned down and pulled it out. He carefully unfolded and stared back down at Nicolò’s face.

He’d finished it a while ago. He hadn’t thought of telling Nicolò he’d finished it, mostly afraid he’d criticise it. He’d based it off of memory instead of staring at him. He still felt he hadn’t done him justice. He’d spent so long trying to perfect, trying to capture the very spirit of Nicolò. He could see it in him if he’d stared long enough. He’d really thought he’d been breaking down the last of his walls before Filipo appeared.

Filipo, who called him Nico and knew him as a child. Who probably knew Nicolò’s deepest secrets. Who looking at Nicolò with a grin of familiarity.

Who made his disdain for Yusuf clear. And Nicolò didn’t argue with his words. Part of him worried Nicolò was going to regress back into the person he had been slowly growing out of. Maybe he hadn’t but fallen back into whatever role he’d been forced into his whole life.

It was coming onto a year since they’d met. Since they were meant to have died and passed over. Death still seemed like an impossibility as any wound would still heal before his eyes.

Almost a year since they’d decided the best thing to do was to stick together. Because why would they both have this ability if someone didn’t want to bring them together? That was his reasoning from the beginning. It still made the most sense but he still wasn’t sure what the greater reason for this ability was.

He looked out to the stars and the full moon. Part of him wondered if Nicolò was looking at the same sky.

* * *

The the tavern Filipo had dragged him to was on the edge of the city, the patrons a mixture of the Crusaders and the local Muslims. It was maybe a little louder than Nicolò had expected, mostly because he’d thought Filipo was planning to take him somewhere a little more quiet and enjoy each other’s company outside of Filipo’s home.

Nicolò watched Filipo from where he sat, sipping his drink quietly. His friend was dancing with anyone who allowed him. He’d tried to encourage his participation but he just waved him off. He wasn’t much of a dancer anyway,

Across the tavern, he’d noticed a woman had been looking his way every few moments. He paid her no mind, he’d never found much entertainment in encouraging women’s behaviour only to not let it go anywhere.

That made him think back to his days at the monastery. That had felt like a big cycle of tempt, sex, pray. Tempt, sex, pray. Tempt, sex, pray. Tempt, sex, more sex, pray. Pray, pray, pray, sex without much temptation. Sex, pray, sex, pray, more and more sex, more and more prayer.

In his early days of the priesthood, when he was still Brother Nicolò rather than Father Nicolò, there’d been one man named Giovanni who had been two years his senior. With him it had been tempt, sex, pray, sex, pray, sex, pray, sex, sex, sex, sex, something like love, pray, sex, sex, sex, sex, almost certainty it was love, sex, sex, sex, sex.

It lasted until he voiced those feelings to him. Giovanni, who was merely a boy like himself, had stared at him for a long moment before he’d responded with something Nicolò had been replaying in his head a million times over.

_“Men like us do not love, Nico.”_

After those words were spoken, the game they’d had had ended and it was a few more cycles of prayer until he’d fallen into other mens’ beds all over again. Sometimes he would ask himself why he’d put himself through something like that. That guilt ate him up enough on its own, it was almost like he lived for the thrill or was trying to fill a space that he still wasn’t sure what he was desperate to fill with. Maybe he’d been so desperate to prove Giovanni’s words right so he wouldn’t have to face anything resembling heartbreak.

He was sitting by a window, feeling a cool breeze against his skin. He turned his head and stared into the night sky. The stars twinkled back at him. Through traveling with Yusuf, he’d gotten a lot better at using them to navigate. They were lovely. The moon was full too, glowing so brightly.

He heard the sound of footsteps and turned to see Filipo smiling at him. He expected his eyes to be glazed but he looked as sober as he could be.

“Are you going to join?” he asked, setting a hand on the table.

He shook his head. “I don’t really like dancing. I’m fine here.”

Filipo shook his head with an affectionate smile. “This is what happens when one becomes a priest so young.”

He shrugged. He became a priest in his eighteenth year. Most of the others joining were his own age. It wasn’t too young of an age. He wasn’t sure where Filipo’s interests lie but he assumed regardless he had taken many lovers in the past thirteen years.

“You sure? I don’t mind if you bring anyone home either. I could pay for company if needed.”

He shook his head again. “It’s fine, really.”

He stared at him for a few moments. “Maybe we should head back home when you finish your drink. What do you think?”

He looked down at his drink which was half finished before looking back up and nodding. “Okay. Sure.”

The walk home was a short distance. They didn’t say a word to each other for most of it after Filipo made one more suggestion about bought company for him that night after they passed a brothel. Nicolò gave a more defiant ‘no’ before they fell into a silence.

When they got back to Filipo’s home he went straight to bed with a final goodnight. The alcohol was already wearing off and he really just wanted to sleep.

He’d been lying in bed for a few minutes before he heard the sound of footsteps. He didn’t open his eyes to look at Filipo, just continued to lay on his side with his knees close to his chest.

He could sense his body near him. When he opened his eyes he saw Filipo staring down at him. Wordlessly, he put a hand to his cheek, his thumb gently brushing his cheekbone.

Nicolò wasn’t a fool, he knew what this was. He’d imagined it many times in his youth how it would go. He’d hoped so many times that he’d fall into this situation with Filipo.

When he didn’t flinch away, Filipo smiled at him. His eyes so bright. Nicolò gave him a small smile back. This was what he’d wanted for a long time after all.

He leaned down to kiss him and Nicolò didn’t move. He let his lips slide against his own, noticing his smooth skin. He ignored the part of him that wished it was a thick curly beard that he had imagined the feel of scraping against his own.

The kiss was mostly unremarkable, nothing like his youthful mind had imagined. He’d kissed many men in his time, and this didn’t stand out. But it did feel nice to be intimate with someone again.

A hand was on his hip. It was a casual point of contact. There were callouses on his palm and fingers. His mind couldn’t help but think about hands that couldn’t callous and how they would feel in its place.

A hand started to drift under his shirt. He wasn’t completely aroused but it was enough to be a sign that he was at least enjoying this. He _was_ enjoying it. It wasn’t as if it felt terrible.

It just wasn’t what — or who — he wanted. And that was devastating because it made him realise who he’d wanted.

Yusuf. That was who he wanted. He wanted to know what it felt like to feel his beard against his skin and how his hands would feel against his body. His accent whispering sweet nothings in Arabic. It would sound like music, he could already picture that. He would be able to understand every word of the sweet poetry he’d murmur. Something about Yusuf told him he’d be a sweet and gentle lover.

Fingers traced his pelvic area as he pulled on his pants, nearing his member. He let his body respond how it wanted to, allowing his mind manifest exactly who he wished was above him.

“Your skin is warm,” Filipo said affectionately, breaking the silence and the trance Nicolò had put himself into. His words had been in Zeneize. Yusuf might have used it but in his head, he would have used Arabic or Greek, maybe even Latin if he’d really wanted to.

He didn’t respond with words, only gave a hum and let Filipo continue. His arousal had been helped by thinking of Yusuf but hearing Filipo speak had softened him slightly.

He put his mind back onto Yusuf. All bright smile and dark eyes sparkling. He’d tried to imagine the kind of words he’d say. Maybe ‘ya helo’ or ‘ya amar’. Maybe he’d say nothing at all and just show him how he’d felt.

He was so lost in thought that he hadn’t realised that Filipo had pulled away and frowned down at him. His hand was still on his member but it took a moment to realise it had softened.

“Nico, are you still with me?”

He blinked. “Uh, yes.”

He looked at him, then down at his member which no longer showed sign of arousal. “Your mind is clearly elsewhere.” He pulled his hand away. He continued to stare at him, disappointment in his eye. “I know where your interests lie, Nico. Word gets around far when you know enough people.”

He frowned and sat up, covering himself with his blanket. “My interests do lie in men, and with you.”

Maybe that was half a lie. Previous desire didn’t speak for the present. He had longed for Filipo for long nights until he’d faded away as a memory. Filipo came from money, so if there had been any chances of them copulating, it would’ve been viewed as something he would grow out of before taking a wife.

Nicolò had been a peasant before he was a priest and wasn’t afforded those luxuries. So he had to wait until he’d joined the priesthood and had ruts in corners where they weren’t seen. He didn’t have any kind of preferences so sometimes he’d go on his knees, sometimes he’d be the one pressing his chest to the warm skin of a back.

“I believe you when you say you desire for men. I had known for certain when I saw you with the infidel.”

He stomach dropped. It hadn’t occurred to him that would have been a suspicion for Filipo. He’d realised how foolish that was of him. Filipo had accused Yusuf of having blackmailing him. Maybe he’d concluded that Yusuf was really a bedmate.

When Filipo spoke again, Nicolò realised that wasn’t exactly what he’d thought. “You’re in love with that infidel, aren’t you?” His tone was accusatory. It made his skin crawl.

“His name is Yusuf.”

He didn’t deny the feelings, and Filipo seemed almost angry by it.

It reminded him of the words of Giovanni’s words. _'Men like us do not love, Nico.’_ Filipo saw the pollar opposite, and his disgust seemed to lie in him possibly daring to feel that way towards a Moor.

Was he in love with Yusuf? Maybe. Maybe he had fallen in love with the enemy, a man he had left behind out of his own selfishness and fear. A man he truly didn’t deserve the kindness of.

Maybe he wasn’t in love with him but had lost his chance to create something beautiful, something different, something to cherish. Something fate was trying to give them in a time where things weren’t great if your desires lie where theirs did.

“What happened to you, Nico? Gallivanting with an enemy is not like you.”

He shivered at his words. “I was jsut as much his enemy.” _I should know, he killed me_. “But that has passed. I’ve come to realise many things whilst being with him. Maybe we’re the bad guys, Filipo. Maybe we were lied too all our lives about all of this.”

He raised his brow at him. “There is no good and bad in war.”

He wasn’t sure if he agreed. Maybe he was right but he still shook his head, this wasn’t about philosophy. “Yusuf is a good man. A better man than you’ll ever be.”

“Then why are you with me and not with him?”

It was a fair question, one he’d avoided to ask himself out of his own cowardice. Maybe part of him knew he was starting to get too close to Yusuf and he saw Filipo as a way to get away from him, even if it was temporary.

Filipo stepped closer to him. His hand found its way to his face again and his thumb stroked his jaw. “If you wanted to close your eyes and pretend I’m him, I don’t mind. You could say his name and I wouldn’t mind.”

He stared into his eyes for a few moments. Blue, like the sky. Not a warm dark brown he’d grown to love.

The easy solution would truly be to stay here longer. To let Filipo do whatever he pleased to him. To be with his own people, not play pretend as a labour worker, guard, or mercenary. Filipo could give him that comfortability, take him to that island Sicily now occupied. It was such an easy solution.

It still wasn’t what he’d wanted.

He’d probably never have Yusuf as anything other than a friend but that was more than enough to satisfy eternity, whatever that ended up looking like.

He moved from his touch. “I’m going to leave in the morning. For Aleppo.”

Disappointment crossed his face. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Then I won’t stop you.”

“Good. Please get out of my room.”

When he did, Nicolò curled into a ball and tried to drift asleep as he hoped he hadn’t lost his chance at receiving forgiveness from Yusuf.

* * *

It took a few days to get to Aleppo. Nicolò tried to trek as much distance as possible to get there as soon as possible. It did take a few breaks on his own account or he had to stop because Bonifaci needed to rest. He’d gone through his water long ago and was sure he was close to dying from dehydration before he dunked his head into an oasis an hour outside of Aleppo.

When he arrived, he hopped off of Bonifaci and grabbed his leather reins to pull him around the city. He wasn’t exactly sure the first place to look for Yusuf but he could ask around before he eventually found him.

He ignored the tinge of fear that he’d already moved on. Probably to find those women in their dreams. From what Nicolò could tell, they were somewhere east. It would be a far travel if they did attempt to track them. A job better done by two. For all he knew, they were in their dreams and were looking for them too. Separating had definitely been a bad idea if that was the case, even if it was only a a few days of travel.

The city was busy and he couldn’t help but feel charmed by it. In all the awful things he’d been taught about Seljuks and anyone similar, their cities didn’t go mentioned once.

That made him feel like an even greater fool. He’d realised a while ago everything he’d been taught was going to be proven wrong the more he would travel.

He asked around if anyone had known a man named Yusuf al-Kaysani. When asked for a description, he wanted to say “the kindest brown eyes you will ever see. A smile that could light up a night sky if the stars and moon were to ever disappear. Hair so soft and curly that you want to run your fingers through it. Strong arms you would want to live in forever.”

Instead he’d give a vague description of a beard and curly hair, light brown skin, Moor (using that tended to lead him to be asked if he’d meant Maghrebhi and Nicolò decided to adjust his description to that instead).

That didn’t get him much of anywhere. That wasn’t too unique of a description for the area to help narrow it down.

It was dusk when he was starting to lose hope. He’d found a stable for Bonifaci and was able to get some food and water for him. He could worry about himself later. The fee to leave Bonifaci wasn’t too high.

His eyes drifted over the other horses. There wasn’t too many, which is probably why he saw her so quickly, even if he couldn’t believe it.

He approached Zora slowly, who gave a neigh of what he hoped was recognition.

He let out a sigh of relief and turned to the stable-hand, asking if there was a chance the owner of her would be coming by any time soon.

“He comes to see her every night. I’m not entirely sure why. If you ask me, he might be hoping to see someone.”

That was all the information he’d needed.

He waited outside the stable for a few hours. It had gone dark and his only company was the stars and moon. The stable-hand came by to check on him a few times but ignored him for the most part.

He almost didn’t see him coming.

“Nicolò?”

His head snapped towards him. He saw Yusuf gaping at him, his eyes wide.

He smiled at him. “Hello, Yusuf.”

Yusuf slowly approached him. He almost looked like he was in a trance.

He didn’t look too difference. His hair was still long although his beard was shorter. He could see the shape of his jaw for the first time. Nicolò’s heart thumped hard in his chest as he came even closer.

“You… you came?” Yusuf asked, his tone in disbelief.

He nodded. “Yes. I decided coming here would be better for me than staying in Antioch.”

His eyes were wide as he nodded slowly and a grin swept his face. That was when he’d realised he had dimples and he almost melted on the spot.

“So you would like to continue our travels together?”

He nodded. “I would very much like that, Yusuf. Yes.”

“I’d be happy to have you again, Nico.”

He gave a relieved smile. There was so much he’d wanted to say to him but he wasn’t sure where he could even begin.

“Bonifaci missed you.”

It was a stupid thing to say. He wanted to ease himself back into things. He’d never been great at being vulnerable or even really explaining how he’d felt. He’d seen poetry where people were able to detail their emotions in the most artful ways. Nicolò wasn’t one of those people and had to learn to find other ways to do it.

Right now though, he needed his words.

Yusuf smiled, eyes sparkling. “He did, did he?” He looked at Bonifaci who stood in his stable uninterested, his tail flickering. “Good to know.”

He took a deep breath. “And… I missed you.”

He stared at him, opened his mouth, then closed it. Then said, “I missed you too.”

He held his gaze, hoping his eyes showed everything he’d felt. “I’m a stubborn, foolish man. I’m sorry for leaving, Yusuf.”

Yusuf nodded slowly. “I didn’t need you to tell me that about yourself. But, the apology is very much appreciated.”

He let himself laugh, which prompted Yusuf to as well. His laugh was of pure joy and delight. Utterly perfect music.

They stared at each other for a few moments. Yusuf was still grinning at him. It lit up his entire face.

Before he had a chance to realise it was happening, Yusuf pulled him into his arms in a hug. He froze in his arms from surprise for a moment before he relaxed and hugged him back, burying his face into his neck. He breathed in his scent and let himself smile as they held each other.

His arms were strong and they felt like coming home. It couldn’t even measure to the brief contact they’d had when he’d fallen into his arm in laughter. It was everything he’d needed in that moment.

Yusuf showed him the way to his home. It was a small place but it was so inviting.

Yusuf had clearly been drawing. Charcoal and parchment were scattered on a table. It was so very, Yusuf and he kind of loved it.

It was only a single room. A bed was in the corner, halfheartedly made to go with the table and chair. There wasn’t much room in the home for two people he realised.

“I still have my bedroll, so I can sleep on that,” Nicolò said when Yusuf suggested they turn in.

Yusuf frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous, you can share with me. You don’t need to sleep on the ground.”

His heart started to thump in his chest. He was almost worried Yusuf could hear it before he realised that was ridiculous to think.

He nodded. “Yes, that would be fine. Thank you.” To his surprise, he had been able to maintain his composure. Even when Yusuf smiled at him.

They’d slept close plenty of times before. Sleeping in a tent for so long meant they were always close to touching.

The bed was made for one person, meaning touch was a requirement. As they settled in bed, it took a few tries to find a way to sleep that was comfortable. They ended up in a position where both of their backs were to the wall. Yusuf was behind him and it would be so easy for him to put an arm over him.

The only contact between them was their legs and their torsos. Nothing too intimate but so easy to make so.

He was surprised he was able to fall asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The same three words had been running through Yusuf’s head on repeat all day.

_He came back, he came back, he came back, he came back._

It was still a shock that Nicolò was next to him again. He knew he’d come back eventually, maybe in a few years when signs of the immortality started to show if aging was truly something they could no longer show physically. But not only after two months.

Today was a day he was meant to help a shopkeeper stock his shelves. When he showed up with Nicolò and asked if he could help too he was surprised by how he took him in with ease. While they worked, he caught Nicolò up on what kinds of jobs he’d been doing. He actually seemed engaged in what he’d had to say.

When he asked Nicolò about Antioch, he went silent for a moment.

“Nothing exciting. I didn’t do much at all.”

He smiled at him. “I hope it didn’t make you too lazy.”

Nicolò laughed. He noticed how much his light eyes sparkled. “I assure you, it has not.”

He looked away when the face started to overwhelm him with joy. Enough that he wanted to lean over and pressed their lips together.

He felt like a kind of fool for asking Nicolò to sleep in his bed. He hadn’t had any sort of ulterior motives and his closeness had been more than enough. He had spent much of the night thinking about pulling him closer to his chest so they were folded into each other or resting his head on his chest, Nicolò possibly playing with his hair.

What he would give to feel Nicolò’s fingers in his hair.

He tried not to think about it too much. Desire in the physical sense was one thing. Desire for something more emotional wasn’t the greatest idea. They could live for eternity, and if something broke them then they’d both be alone.

He was still really nice to look at. He had the warmth of the sun in one smile. His eyes were like the ocean, something he wanted to dive deep into. He could see a kind man under all the teachings of the Franks.

He was long gone from the man he’d killed in a battlefield. Maybe they’d learn to really laugh at the way they’d killed each other in the beginning. Time could hand that to them.

Whatever eternity was going to give them, he could at least say he looked forward to it.

* * *

They’d been working almost everyday. Some days Yusuf would go work on his art for someone who was paying for his work. Yusuf had said something about there being a better market in a city instead of small villages. He regretted not believing him when he’d suggested selling art long ago.

It was night and he was sitting by the window watching the stars. Yusuf was still out, do a job that only required one person. Some music being played outside was drifting through the window and he nodded his head along.

The alone time had given him more time to think about where he and Yusuf stood. They’d fallen into a friendship, a more stable one than before. That was something he knew for sure. But he kept replaying Filipo’s accusation of love in his head.

Filipo, if anything, had jumped to a conclusion. A simple misunderstanding. Two men traveling together didn’t have to mean anything but maybe their interactions had been the cause.

Whatever he was feeling, he didn’t want it to be because Yusuf was the closest man to him, one who he shared certain desires with in a more general sense.

He thought back to those cruel words that had followed him for so, so long.

_“Men like us don’t love, Nico.”_

Every time he recalled them, it felt like a stabbing in his chest. Enough for him to push aside the possibility of ever having a man like that. Yusuf included.

He heard the door open and Yusuf walked through, bright smile on his face. He was brandishing a bottle of what looked like wine which had Nicolò’s full attention.

“Hello, Nico,” he said cheerfully.

“Hi. Is that what I think it is?”

He grinned and showed him the bottle. “It is indeed, would you like some?”

“Please.”

He poured the both of them cups and they sat on the window together drinking. It was nice wine too, and Nicolò decided against asking what he’d done to get it.

They sat in a comfortable silence. Yusuf’s feet had found his lap and he rubbed his ankles as a way to return the affection.

It was peaceful. A peace he wasn’t sure he’d ever known before. Yusuf provided contentment that he hadn’t realised he’d been looking for.

A few cups of wine in, Yusuf was nodding along to the music outside. If Nicolò had to guess, they were playing in a space where people could dance. It was upbeat so he could imagine how people were laughing and dancing and just wholly enjoying themselves.

Yusuf smiled at him, eyes crinkling and dimples flashing. “Want to go and join?”

He smiled back at him and nodded. They set their wine down and followed the sound of the music. The found people in the square, seeing friends and lovers dance and some people dance on their own. Yusuf took his hand and pulled him to the crowd and they started to dance together. Usually Nicolò would object to the idea but maybe the problem had always been he hadn’t had someone he’d wanted to dance with.

He and Yusuf were hand in hand as they danced around, both shrieking in laughter. They weren’t exactly chest to chest but they were so close to being so.

Someway through, Yusuf’s forehead had started to press against his own. Something flashed in Yusuf’s eyes while Nicolò stomach felt like it was twisting.

Neither of them moved, they just swayed in the spot even as the music remained upbeat. It would be so easy for their heads to ever so slightly tilt and for their lips to meet delicately. So easy for them to return to their home and let their hands explore each other for real. To know every part of the other.

Except that wasn’t what happened. Yusuf pulled his head away eventually wile Nicolò’s sweaty palms gripped his hips.

Yusuf didn’t step away, instead pulling him closer so their chests were now flush. Now he was sure Yusuf could feel his heart racing in his chest.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Yusuf asked. It was in Zeneize and not the Arabic they’d been using. That made him want to find a very high cliff and jump off of it.

Whatever it was he was feeling, he was starting to realise it was stronger than anything he’d felt before. Whether it be Filipo or the other man in the monastery. This was its own thing altogether because Yusuf was extraordinary.

“Yes.”

_I think I could enjoy eternity with you._

* * *

It’d been a few more months of working, not much different from when they’d first set off. Only now there wasn’t a particular goal in mind. They were living comfortably and didn’t have the urge to travel quite yet. They could search for the two women but neither of them had been east so it would only cause great difficulty.

Yusuf had been enjoying their time together immensely. They were finally in a comfortable state where they didn’t have to sleep in a tent anymore. It was comfortable footing where they both blended into the background.

The more settled the both got, the more he started to think about himself and Nicolò. He wasn’t exactly sure when it had happened but his affection for him had grown more and more. That emotional connection he wanted started to eat at him more. He thought more and more each day what it would feel like to feel his lips against his.

While his affections were strong, he still wasn’t sure if it was exactly love.

He could hear Nicolò had dozed off in their bed. He was still drawing by candlelight. It was one for pure fun since he rarely had time to do that.

That was when he heard the door open. His head snapped up and he saw men coming through the door.

Before he could do anything as he barely registered Nicolò shouting his name, an arrow pierced his neck and everything turned black.

When he woke up, the first thing he realised was he was still on the ground.

The second thing he realised was Nicolò had pulled out his longsword and was hacking at the men. An arrow that he still had to pull out was in his shoulder. He watched as Nicolò gracefully wield his sword on the five men, all of them dropping like flies at his hand.

Nicolò didn’t stop until they were all dead at his feet. His clothes and face were covered in blood.

That seemed to be the last of his concerns. He tossed his longsword aside and came to Yusuf, taking the arrow out of his neck.

“Yusuf!” He sobbed out. “Are you okay? Are you alive?” His words were a mess of Arabic, Zeneize, and Greek as tears mixed with the blood on his face.

He gave a heavy breath and cupped his cheek in his hand. “I’m here, Nicolò. I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

He looked down at him with desperate eyes as he helped him sit up. “I thought… I was worried that whatever this is would only work on each other. That other’s could possibly kill us.”

He smiled at him, feeling a warmth of affection. “I guess not.” He pulled the arrow out of Nicolò’s shoulder. He blinked back at him, looking at his shoulder as if he hadn’t realised it was been there.

“What happened? Last thing I remember when I died was you screaming my name.”

“Bandits, I’m guessing. They were definitely going to kill me but I grabbed my sword in time and took them out.”

He beamed up at him. “I can see that.” He looked at his mouth and he would give anything to wiped the blood off it and kiss him to show him how grateful he was. “Thank you. For defending what we’ve built here.”

He smiled back at him. “It’s been mostly you. I can’t take too much credit.” He looked behind him. “We should probably get the bodies out though.”

He nodded. “And you need to bathe.”

“That too.”

After the bodies were dragged out into a secluded street, Nicolò started to boil water and strip down. Yusuf thought about going to bed to avoid making it awkward. Although they’d seen each other bathe before.

Now things were different. He’d watch him kill for him with no hesitation. It had almost put him into a trance. He knew in that moment that he cared for Nicolò exactly how he’d been trying to avoid. If Nicolò would do this for him, then maybe he meant something to him too.

He decided to keep his eyes off of Nicolò and go to bed. He curled to his side and closed his eyes.

He didn’t sleep. He listened to Nicolò shuffling around their home and the sound of him washing all the blood off himself. He wondered what it would be like to help him wash off other people’s blood as his body held no wounds.

He heard him walk around for a few minutes before he returned to their bed. He felt his weight dip the bed so they were comfortably balanced as he enveloped himself against him.

Hesitantly, he put an arm on his hip. He felt him freeze against him before he relaxed against the touch. It was just like the first time they’d hugged.

He didn’t pull him closer, he did however let their legs tangle as they usually did. He buried his face in the crook of his neck and slowly drifted to sleep.

* * *

Their sleeping arrangement changed slowly over the next few months.

It was only slight. It was after Yusuf had placed a hand to his hip for the first time.

Slowly, he started to wrap him in his arms so he was closer to his chest. Then slowly, Nicolò would return the hold by putting his own arms over Yusuf’s.

It felt almost natural, Nicolò settled into his arms so easily that Yusuf could imagine him there forever.

Over the past few months, he was slowly falling in love with Nicolò even more. It was getting close to two years since they’d first crossed blades in the Holy City. So close to two years of their gift being bestowed unto them. Two years of trying to see the best in the other.

It didn’t feel like two years. The whole time had flown by in a way that almost felt like a dream. Everything with Nicolò felt like a dream.

As he awoke that morning, hearing Nicolò making their breakfast, he smiled big as he’d realised he could live the rest of his life like this, however long that may be.

He got out of bed and walked towards Nicolò. His hair hadn’t been combed and his beard was starting to get long. He almost asked him if he’d wanted him to help him with his grooming but decided against it. Nicolò always eventually asked him to shave him.

“I was going to the bazaar today, did you want to come?” he asked.

Nicolò beamed at him. “Sure. We need more fruit.”

He smiled back at him and this time, didn’t ignore that back-flips his stomach did as he witnessed that smile.

They walked to the bazaar together, waving to people they’d recognised and smiled at children who ran passed them.

Nicolò went ahead of him into the bazaar and Yusuf stayed close behind. He’d noticed that he really loved the bazaar, enough that his excitement was infectious enough to make him enjoying their weekly shops.

As he looked over some meat, he heard someone call his name. When he looked up, he felt his heart in his throat when he saw it was Pierus.

Pierus was a man he’d brought to bed more than once. He’d traveled from Florence and they’d had some meaningless fun when Nicolò was still in Antioch. He hadn’t given him so much as a second thought since the last time they’d been in bed together.

“Pierus, how are you?” he asked politely as he came closer. Yusuf felt like his own feet was rooted in his place.

“I’m doing wonderful, Yusuf. I hadn’t known you were still in town.”

He shrugged casually. “Never left.”

He nodded. “Ah, been busy I’m guessing? Romancing all the men, I’m sure.”

He opened his mouth to speak before Nicolò’s voice called from where he stood by the fruit. “Yusuf! Should we get pomegranates!”

The usage of ‘we’ sent a bolt of elasticity up his spine as he smiled back at him. “Yes please!”

He looked back at Pierus, who had a looking of relisation on his face. “Oh, I see. You’ve found something more permanent I’m assuming?”

Yusuf wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that. It was all too complicated when you put it all on paper. They had no reason to be together if it weren’t for their apparent immortality. What they had grown into — whatever one could call it — was almost irrelevant.

He simply gave a nod. One lie wouldn’t hurt. “Yes. He is.”

Pierus smiled. “Good for you, you seem somewhat happier. I could tell something was missing when we were having our fun.”

He shrugged. “It was fun. But yes, there was something missing.” He let it go unsaid that Nicolò had left him for a brief period. Whether Pierus figured that out for himself was something he was unsure of.

Pierus gave him a nod. “I will see you around town, of course. Have a good day, Yusuf.”

“You too.”

He went back to Nicolò’s side who he’d realised had been watching him although he didn’t make a comment.

They continued their shop in silence unless they were asking for the other’s opinion. He quickly noticed something was hovering over Nicolò’s mood, something he might not hear about until they got home if at all.

They walked home in silence. He realised he missed the sound of Nicolò’s voice quickly.

When they were home and the food was properly stored, Nicolò asked what he’d probably been desperate to ask.

“Who was that man?”

He shuffled in his place, not looking in Nicolò’s eye. “He and I copulated a few times. He was simply being friendly.”

Surprise crossed his face. “Oh. Sorry, I should’ve realised my presence would’ve prevented that happening more.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. We’d ended it long before you came back. And I had no attachments when you did return.” He gave a shrug to indicate finality.

He stared at him before nodding and looking away. “Right.”

A question was eating at his chest and it was out before he could seal his lips shut and throw the question into the back of his brain. “I’m sure you and Filipo copulated anyway.”

To his surprise, Nicolò met his eye. “Almost. We almost did.”

He shouldn’t be surprised. Nicolò was a grown man, if he’d wanted to have sex with someone then he was allowed to. They weren’t tied to each other, they were their own people. Nicolò could go out and pay for some company for all he cared.

He doubted he returned his feelings anyway.

“I don’t mind if you bring someone back. I could always spend the night at a tavern,” Nicolò said.

He considered giving him a shrug and ending the conversation. Instead, he spoke the honest truth. “It’s fine, Nicolò. I’m not interested in doing that right now.”

He stared at him for a few moments. His light eyes flickering with something he couldn’t quite place. “Neither am I.”

They stared at one another for a few moments. So much went unsaid in that moment and there was so much Yusuf could say. He wanted to pull the words out of his chest and tell him why he didn’t need anyone else.

He decided that would be for another time.

“I’m going to go check on the horses,” Nicolò said, breaking the tense silence. “I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded and watched him leave, wondering to himself if whatever was growing between them would be resolved and become the beautiful thing it was clearly meant to be.

* * *

Instead of going to the stable, Nicolò walked right to the nearby tavern.

He wasn’t sure why he’d lied. He doubted Yusuf would care. They didn’t have to always know exactly what the other was doing.

His mind kept going back to the crush he’d felt in his chest when he saw him talking to the man in the bazaar. He had guessed he’d probably had relations when he was in Antioch. He wasn’t sure why that ate at his chest so much. They hadn’t even so much as hugged before they’d parted.

Maybe he should’ve had let Filipo do whatever he’d liked to him. If he hadn’t spent the time thinking of Yusuf’s hands maybe it would’ve gone somewhere. It should’ve been easy, he’d had sex that meant nothing so many times. It was all he really knew. He could’ve had it so easily with Filipo where they didn’t mention it in the morning or kept doing it but never said anything about it. He’d heard Filipo bring people to his home so many times before. He was able to tune those out and fall asleep unbothered.

It was dawning on him that he wasn’t sure he could do that with Yusuf. That he’d been spending the past few months wanting to turn around on his arms, press him into the bed, and kiss him until it felt like he was dying. It had turned into an ache where he still wasn’t sure how to handle.

He could tell himself he only wanted him that why because they didn’t have anyone else and possibly wouldn’t have anyone else for as long as each other. That he and Yusuf wouldn’t lose each other and could have each other in that way for sheer convenience.

Except he knew deep down it wasn’t that. Deep down he wanted him in a way he had been telling himself for so long was only an imitation of the authentic thing.

He stood outside the tavern for a few moments. He watched people come and go. He could walk in and find someone quickly. He knew how that process went.

He didn’t feel a pull to go inside. The pull that there was was leading him right home and into Yusuf’s arms for more than sleep. He wanted to know fully what it was like to touch Yusuf’s body, for Yusuf to explore his own. To know the man in the most intimate ways possible.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and made the short walk home. He passed some people but kept his eyes cast down.

He was a fool. He was certain of that. He was a fool and didn’t know how he felt for Yusuf. The old words from Giovanni remind him it hadn’t been love between them still plagued him. If there was any chance Yusuf felt something for him, maybe he’d accept the words had been false.

He had to believe the words, because his heart had been broken before and he didn’t want to experience it again. The words were the only thing that stopped his heart from shattering.

Whatever he’d felt for Giovanni was long gone. He’d been a child who still hadn’t known what he’d wanted. Even so many years on, he still wasn’t sure what he’d wanted.

When he returned home, Yusuf was sat at their table drawing on his pad. His face was pulled in concentration, his tongue poking out. He was in a state that nothing could pull him out of.

Except for, apparently, his return.

Yusuf looked up at him and he saw his eyes light up. “Oh, you’re back already!” He grinned as he said it. Not a question, just delight.

He nodded and sat across from him. “Yes. I, uh, I am.”

Yusuf looked at him and the smile on his face made his stomach go in absolute knots. He had to force himself to not lean over the table and press their lips together. To run his fingers through those ever so soft looking curls and hold his strong body in his.

They were in silence for a few moments. Yusuf set down his piece of charcoal. “I… I was thinking. That I had more to say before. More to ask.”

“What?” Nicolò asked with a slight frown. “What did you want to ask?”

“What did you mean when you said you and Filipo…almost copulated? Why didn’t you?”

He stared at him for a few moments. “He figured out I was thinking of someone else.”

Yusuf stared back at him. He thought of saying exactly what he meant but the look in Yusuf’s eyes almost struck a fear in him. Not because they were in anyway intimidating but because they were stirring up feelings deep inside of him.

He didn’t ask him who. But he knew the answer hung in the air.

Yusuf was still staring at him. For a second he thought he was going to lean over and kiss him himself. His brown eyes flickered to his lips and he bit his own lip.

Even though his mind was screaming, Nicolò stood up. “I should get a start on dinner,” he said, although it came out as a murmur.

He didn’t look back at Yusuf. He knew he was still staring at him but he didn’t say another word

* * *

Finding the words to say how he’d felt took Yusuf the better part of a month. He had been telling himself he’d had an eternity to find the right words, the perfect words even to tell him for the first time and simply hope his feeling were returned.

He’d spent that time writing it all down first. There were so many words to put together in so many different languages. He’d started it out in Arabic before changing to Greek for a while. Then he’d started to write in Zeneize because he still needed to improve his literacy in it. Then he started to write it in Latin because that was another language they had in common.

What he’d ended up with was a string of different languages forming sentences that wouldn’t make sense to most. The chaos of the words made about as much sense as his love for Nicolò.

He loved him beyond measure and reason. That was the only way he could make sense of falling in love with the Frank that he was meant to have killed. He had fallen in love with how he would cook for him and how he’d learned his language and how he would smile at children and having him in his arms as they would sleep.

It didn’t make sense but Yusuf knew love made little sense to begin with.

“What are you drawing?”

He looked up from his pad and towards Nicolò. It had been raining outside so his cloak was slightly damp as he pulled it off and tossed it with his own. His smile showed kindness that he was realising had always been there.

He smiled back at him. “Nothing important.”

He nodded and Yusuf’s eyes followed him as he went to pick up a tangerine from their pile of fruit. He watched him as he peeled it and pulled out a slice, popping it into his mouth. Some of the juice ran down his chin.

He must’ve felt him watching him as he looked in his direction. Yusuf ducked his head down and looked back down at the mess of words that only made sense to him.

Maybe the right words would come to him eventually. It would be easy to be direct with how he’d felt. Simple words of ‘I am in love with you’. But Nicolò deserved more than that, he deserved words that intricately described how he’d felt.

He’d grown up devouring poetry. He’d read all the texts he could get his hands on. He’d learned to read Greek by doing exactly that. He’d always been in awe of how words could string together sentences never created to describe feelings that had been felt so many times before yet new every single time.

The words were out there, he just had to find them. Although, part of him felt no words could perfectly describe Nicolò. He was his own kind of perfection that required words that didn’t exist.

“Yusuf?” Nicolò said gently.

He looked in his direction and saw he had another tangerine. His smile was so sweet and he thought of what it would feel like to have his lips quirked like that as they pressed against his own. “Want one?”

“Yes, thank you, Nico.”

There was always the lightest pink flush whenever he’d called him ‘Nico’. He liked seeing it and tried to not overuse the nickname simply because he knew the pink flush would disappear if he grew used to hearing it on his tongue.

He closed the pad and set it aside as he handed him the tangerine and their fingers brushed for the smallest moment. His fingers were so warm and smooth. He thought about what it’d be like to have them against his lips or in his mouth. He thought about licking the juice off of his other hand, gently wrapping his tongue around each digit and sucked them. He pictured the sounds he would make, small sweet moans maybe.

For now, he peeled his own tangerine and ate the pieces, Nicolò staying by his side.

* * *

After a long day of stocking shelves, Nicolò fell onto their bed ready to sleep it all off. It wasn’t even dark yet and his stomach was rumbling. Usually he’d eat first, he was the better cook between him and Yusuf after all.

He heard the sound of Yusuf’s laugh, a certain amount of affection in it. “You’re going to bed already?”

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I need to rest for a few moments. My legs are aching.”

He heard him on the other side of the room. He turned his head to see him sitting at the window. He noticed how much he did that. He would pull out his pad and draw for hours. Sometimes he’d sit there at the perfect time of day and the sun would cast over him in the most beautiful way.

He couldn’t stop his smile as he watched him. He’d been more invested in his pad lately. He’d seen his charcoal gliding across the parchment and true to character, he’d conceal his latest work if he was anywhere near him.

He closed his eyes and drifted off, smiling at the sound of Yusuf’s soft hums.

When he woke up, he could smell meat. His eyes fluttered open and saw Yusuf setting bowls onto the table. He smiled at the smell of lamb.

He stood up and sat with Yusuf at the table. “You cooked?”

Yusuf gave a slight smile and what Nicolò could only describe as a bashful nod. “I tried to. Probably isn’t the best, I do hope you enjoy lamb.”

“I do very much. Thank you, Yusuf.” He gave a smile he hoped could covey exactly how grateful he was. He enjoyed cooking for Yusuf and it was nice to know he would even try to return that gesture.

They ate and they talked and they laughed. It was like that every night ever since he’d arrived in Aleppo. It was far from where they’d started just over two years ago and he really enjoyed that.

When they were both finished, Yusuf gave him a smile with soft eyes. “I actually wanted to tell you something, Nicolò.”

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard his tone so soft and gentle. He half expected him to take his hand in his.

He realised how much he wanted that.

“Yes, Yusuf?” he asked, his own tone trying to mimic his.

Yusuf’s eyes shifted into a way that showed the nerves bubbling to the surface.

“I’ve been doing my best to find the right way to say this. I love the poetry of words and what they can bring but sometimes they are difficult to put together them in a way that can fully express my thoughts or my emotions. But I will simply try.”

He stared back at him and it hit him that he knew what he was going to say. Part of him felt that he should stop him now before things got too deep.

“You are… so many things, Nicolò. You are by design many things I would have to take years to fully understand but I like that. Despite our rough beginnings, having you by my side while we try to understand what God has given us has been it’s own kind of blessing.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. Yes, he was definitely going to say it.

“Yusuf,” he said cutting him off as he opened his mouth, leaving the declaration only half finished. “I know what you are going to say and I must tell you; men like us aren’t made for that.”

The crushing look in Yusuf’s eyes made him instantly regret his words. He wished immediately he could suck those words back in and destroy them so Yusuf could finish telling him how he’d felt and wouldn’t look like he was in more pain than all those times he had killed him.

“You think men like us do not love?” Yusuf stared at him. The sheer disbelief on his face obvious.

He nodded despite himself. “The one time I thought I had felt the towards a man that was what he told me.”

A look of dawning reliasation crossed Yusuf’s face. “You’re afraid of being hurt, aren’t you?”

He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Giovanni had hurt him but it had been so much easier to pretend he’d hadn’t. He couldn’t have a broken heart if Giovanni never had it to begin with.

Yusuf’s eyes closed for a moment before he let out a long, shaky breath. “Nicolò, my dear sweet Nicolò, how I feel about you feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest from my heart. It’s not some imitation of love reserved between men and women. It’s true, it’s pure, it’s like a song of its own. You are like my own sun to give me warmth and you’re the stars that guide me home. What I feel for you is unmeasurable and whoever denied your love was beyond foolish, he lost a man who may as well been sculpted from the divine. You are inconceivable yet you stand before me in pure flesh. Nicolò, I love you in ways that I am only beginning to understand. I love you in ways that have yet to be written, with words yet to be created, words that I will have to find a way to write and will use the eternity granted to us to figure out. I love you, Nicolò, as much as a man can love anything.”

He hadn’t realised he’d started crying until tears dripped from his chin and onto the table. He had never heard such sweet words in his life. He had grown so accustomed to having nothing more than one night with a man who was easy to replace, simply a means to an end. Even Filipo never would’ve provided any sort of fulfillment. He would’ve just joined a sea of faces he’d forgotten after some time.

Yusuf wasn’t that, it was like something in his chest was pulling him towards him. Every single words was like a prayer. He wanted him to know exactly how he’d felt and Nicolò realised he wanted to give him the exact same thing.

Except he wasn’t great with words. He’d never be able to follow up the sheer poetry that Yusuf had given him. He didn’t have anything spectacular to quote.

So he decided to do what he knew he could do to show someone who he’d felt.

He took Yusuf’s hands into his own. He intertwined their fingers together and squeezed his hand. Brown eyes looked into his as he smiled at Yusuf.

“Like I said, I’m stubborn and foolish. And yes, I’ve been hurt before. I think that may be why I am the way I am sometimes. I will not be able to give the kinds of words you gave me but I can say this; I love you too Yusuf. As much as you have just shown me. The idea I can be in love is still new to me because the words of my first have haunted me for so long. But I think we can create something beautiful together. If you’ll have me.”

Yusuf pressed their foreheads together. “Nico, I will have you in any and every way possible.”

It was a simple tilt that allowed their lips to meet in a soft kiss. It was everything Nicolò had thought it would be and more. His beard was soft against his own, his lips tasted so sweet, his hands laid on his hips. He put his fingers into his curls and they were oh so soft.

They moved to their bed and that was a mess of hands and moans and sweet whispers in a mix of languages. As he toyed with Yusuf underneath his pants, Yusuf mumbled strings of sentences in Arabic between moans of pleasure. He was whispering “Nicolò, my life, my love, my stars and moon and sun, you are so gorgeous and incredible” while Nicolò could only respond by repeating Yusuf’s name over and over as pleasure ran down his spine. Yusuf’s hands were on his hips, almost guiding him.

“You’re so perfect, my love,” Yusuf mumbled from below him as Nicolò rocked his hips forward. “So perfect.”

He took Yusuf’s face into his hands and kissed him. He continued to rock his hips forward as he did and Yusuf’s moans sounded like music.

He’d thought for so many months in the back of his mind what it would be like to have Yusuf in his arms like this. He’d realised he couldn’t even imagine the pure joy and love their bodies could create together. They were inconceivable as a pair and they were only on the building blocks of what was ahead for them. He could listen to Yusuf sings his praises of love for years, centuries even. Maybe even millennia if they were granted that.

“You’re so beautiful, my heart,” Yusuf mumbled in his neck and left small nips on the sensitive skin.

“My love, my Yusuf,” he gasped out and collapsed onto his body as they both reached completion. Yusuf relaxed under him as their legs tangled together and Nicolò adjusted himself so his head was resting next to Yusuf’s.

They were quiet for a few moments, both of them breathing heavily.

Yusuf pulled his arms around his hips and pulled him closer so they were chest to chest. “I love you,” he whispered like it was a secret, words only for the two of them to hear.

“I love you too. Are you always this romantic during sex?”

The ways his eyes lit up made him feel like he fell in love with him all over again. “Only for you, my heart. My people are very big on poetry.”

He hummed, nuzzling into his neck. “Should I expect more poems in the future?”

“I already have some. Although you might not be able to make sense of it. I had trouble finding words worth describing you.”

“I can’t wait to hear them,” he kissed his jaw. “Read them to me later, promise?”

“Anything for you.” He pressed his lips to his head. “I’ve been spending the last few months writing them. I was planning to use one I memorised when I confessed to you but instead words spilled out of me to try and explain my feelings. I still think I haven’t sufficed.”

He ran his fingers lazily through his hair. “You have a long time to find the right words. I’m not rushing you.” He kissed him. “But what you said was truly wonderful.”

“I will spend the rest of my life searching for the right words. I will learn every language just to have the chance to tell you to full capacity, my heart.”

He smiled at him and kissed him again as sweetly as he could. He pulled away slightly before he could kiss back but remained close enough to feel the brush of his lips. “For now, you can show me.”

Yusuf smiled at him and Nicolò laughed as he moved to straddle his hips. “I can definitely do that. I’ll start with kissing every inch of you.”

Yusuf’s lips touch every part of him, as promised. He treated his body as if it was something precious. Nicolò giggled and laughed and moaned and sighed. He mumbled out Yusuf’s name and he hoped he understood the words there that he couldn’t quite get out.

_You’re everything I’ve wanted and don’t deserve yet you want me like this. You want to love me like this and do. I don’t know how I was blessed with you in front of me despite everything that has happened between us. I have spent so long looking for this and avoiding it all at once. I don’t know what I have done to even deserve half the love you want to give me._

When Yusuf was hovering over him again and his eyes stared into his own, Nicolò realised he could have all of this man for the rest of his life.

* * *

Yusuf yawned as he woke up and reached out for Nicolò, only to be met with an empty space. He frowned and furrowed his brows.

He sat up and when his vision cleared he saw Nicolò setting a plate of fresh fruit at the table. He smiled and crawled out of bed, grabbing his discarded clothes on the floor.

Nicolò’s back was to him and hadn’t turned to say good morning yet. He tip toed over to him and wrapped his arms around him from behind. Nicolò laughed in his arms, covering his arms with his own, as Yusuf kissed his neck. He really wouldn’t tire of the taste of his skin.

“Morning,” he mumbled against his skin.

“Good morning. You definitely slept well.”

He yawned. “I’m a heavy sleeper, you should know that by now.”

Nicolò turned his arms so his back was now resting against the table. “I am. I like watching you sleep but I actually wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed. Maybe feed you.”

His heart thumped in his chest. “Definitely would not mind that.”

With the plate of fruit, they returned to their bed. Nicolò prompted him to lay down on his back while he straddled his hips, holding onto the plate.

As he placed grapes into his mouth, Yusuf thought to himself how he’d been half worried yesterday had been nothing more than a dream. He was so starved for Nicolò’s touch for a moment, he’d been sure his mind was the only thing that could create something so perfect.

“I could spend everyday like this,” Yusuf said as Nicolò placed a mango into his mouth.

Nicolò smiled ever so sweetly at him. “That would be nice. I’ll do my best to make that happen.” He popped a slice of tangerine into his own mouth. He set aside the plate and bent down to kiss him.

They kissed lazily like that for a while. Things didn’t get heated, they kept it sweet. Although Yusuf’s mind raced as he tasted tangerine on his tongue. He had to stop himself from putting his tongue into his mouth and licking off the taste.

Nicolò pulled away with a smile. “As fun as this is, I still haven’t eaten.”

Yusuf laughed and nodded. They both sat up and put the bowl on where their knees pressed together, feeding each other the fruit, stealing kisses every so often.

When the plate was empty, the moved to sit on the window. Their legs tangled together as they lay out.

“How long do you think we should stay here in Aleppo?” Yusuf asked idly, rubbing his thumb against Nicolò’s ankle.

“I’m not sure. Where would we go next?”

“How long would it take to get to Rome?”

Nicolò made a face. “I’d rather we didn’t. We’d have to go through my homeland and I don’t want to risk someone recognising me. Someone who knows I’m supposed to be dead at least.”

A brief silence passed. “Do you think we should go back to see our families?”

He shrugged. “It’s been two years, I’m not sure. You’ve heard what’s happening in the Holy Land, so many people didn’t survive. If we are truly no longer aging, and I really do think we aren’t, we wouldn’t be able to stay with our families long without revealing ourselves. And if I am being completely honest with you, I doubt my family would take you in with open arms.”

Yusuf let out a long sigh. “Can’t say it’s any different back home for me. I would be accused of having the devil whisper in my ear if I even attempted to tell them what we share.”

His eyes casted down. “I will miss my family terribly though.”

He gave an empathetic nod. “As will I.”

They fell into a silence. Nicolò licked his lips and met his eye. “Whoever those women in our dreams are, I do hope we find them or they find us soon.”

“Why?”

“It must be some kind of destiny. I hope so at least. Maybe they know why we are the way we are. Maybe they’ll know how to lead us to our purpose.”

There was so much hope in his voice and for his sake, Yusuf hoped he was right.

“They looked to be heading our way. Maybe for now we should stay in place,” Yusuf said. “We have a home here, we have work. There’s no rush to go into anything and stray further from them by heading west.”

Nicolò nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I’m happy here.”

He smiled at Nicolò and squeezed his ankle. “I’m happy here too, happy with you.”

The look of pure elation on Nicolò’s face was one he told himself he’d make sure to bring for the rest of eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> offscreen, Andy and Quynh giving the biggest sigh of relief that these idiots finally shut up and kissed
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this! I worked on this for...about a month and a half and I'm happy with how this turned out. Thank you for reading to the end. Comments and kudos always appreciated!


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